THE 



CHRISTIAN LEADERS 



Wxt Da*± Centura; 



ENGLAND A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.. 



By the 

^^ f. y: c?^ fz^, b.a., 

Christ Church, Oxford; 
AUTHOR OF "EXPOSITORY THOUGHTS? &c. 



" Enquire, I pray thee, of the former age, and prepare thyself to the search of 
their fathers."— JOB viii. 8. 



p^roFco^o^ 



LONDON: 

T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; 

EDINBURGH ; AND NEW YORK. 
187I. 



I 



* 






Xtl Kit. 




|HE volume now in the reader's hands requires a few 
prefatory sentences of explanation. I should be 
sorry if there was any mistake as to its nature and 
intention. 

It consists of a series of biographical papers, contributed to 
a well-known and most valuable monthly periodical during the 
years 1866 and 1867.* My object in drawing up these papers 
was to bring before the public in a comprehensive form the 
lives, characters, and work of the leading ministers by whose 
agency God was pleased to revive Christianity in England a 
hundred years ago. I had long felt that these great men were 
not sufficiently known, and their merit in consequence not suffi- 
ciently recognized. I thought that the Church and the world 
ought to know something more than they seem to know about 
such men as Whitefield, Wesley, Romaine, Rowlands, Grim- 
shaw, Berridge, Venn, Toplady, Hervey, Walker, and Fletcher. 
For twenty years I waited anxiously for some worthy account 
of these mighty spiritual heroes. At last I became weary of 
waiting, and resolved to take the pen in my own hand, and do 
what I could in the pages of a periodical. These papers, in 
compliance with the wishes of friends, are now brought together 
in a portable form. 

How far my attempt has been successful, I must now leave 

* The Family Treasury, 



iv PREFACE. 

the public to judge. To literary merits the volume can lay no 
claim. Its chapters were written from month to month in the 
midst of many ministerial engagements, under a pressure which 
none can understand but those who write for periodicals. To 
expect such a volume to be a model of finished composition 
would be absurd. I only lay claim to a tolerable degree of 
accuracy about historical facts. I have been careful to make 
no statement for which I could not find some authority. 

The reader will soon discover that I am an enthusiastic 
admirer of the men whose pictures I have sketched in this 
volume. I confess it honestly. I am a thorough enthusiast 
about them. I believe firmly that, excepting Luther and his 
Continental contemporaries and our own martyred Reformers, 
the world has seen no such men since the days of the apostles. 
I believe there have been none who have preached so much 
clear scriptural truth, none who have lived such lives, none 
who have shown such courage in Christ's service, none who 
have suffered so much for the truth, none who have done so 
much good. If any one can name better men, he knows more 
than I do. 

I now send forth this volume with an earnest prayer that God 
may pardon all its defects, use it for his own glory, and raise 
up in his Church men like those who are here described. Surely, 
when we look at the state of England, we may well say, " Where 
is the Lord God of Whitefield and of Rowlands, of Grimshaw 
and of Venn 1 O Lord, revive thy work ! " 

J. C. RYLE. 

Stradbroke Vicarage, August 10, 1868. 

P.S. — I think it right to say that the chief substance of the 
biography of " Whitefield," in this volume, was originally de- 
livered as a lecture in London in 1852. It now appears 
remoulded and enlarged. The other ten biographies were pre- 
pared expressly for the Family Treasury. 



CONTENTS. 



I. 

&%t ftelfgfoug ano Jttoral ©onoftfon of ©nglanD 

AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 

Page 
Importance of the History of the Eighteenth Century — Political and Financial Position 
of England — Low State of Religion both in Churches and Chapels — Testimonies 
on the subject — Defects of Bishops and Clergy— Poverty of the Printed Theology 
— Wretched Condition of the Country as to Education, Morals, and Popular Litera- . 
ture— The " Good Old Times" a mere Myth n 



II. 

®i)e &gencp bp toijfrf) ©fjriattanttg toas ffifbtbeD in ©nglanD 

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 

Improvement of England since middle of Eighteenth Century an undeniable Fact- 
Agents in effecting the Change a few isolated and humble Clergymen — Preaching 
the chief Instrument they employed — The Manner of their Preaching — The Sub- 
stance of their Preaching 21 



III. 

QSzoxQt ®&I)ttefleIo anU Ijfs JUmtstrp. 

CHAPTER I. 

Whitefield's Birth-place and Parentage — Educated at Gloucester Grammar School- 
Enters Pembroke College, Oxford — Season of Spiritual Conflict — Books which 
were made useful to him — Ordained by Bishop Benson — First Sermon — Preaches 
in London — Curate of Dummer, Hants — Goes to America — Returns in a year — 
Preaches in the open air — Is excluded from most London Pulpits — Extent of his 
Labours for thirty-one years — Dies at Newbury Port, America, in 1770 — Interest- 
ing circumstance* of his Death 



VI CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER II. 

Page 
Estimate of Good that Whitefield did— Testimonies to his direct Usefulness— Indirect 
Good that he did — Peculiar character of his Preaching — Witnesses to his real power 
as a Preacher — Analysis of his seventy-five published Sermons — Simplicity, Direct- 
ness, Power of Description, Earnestness, Pathos, Action, Voice, and Fluency, his 
leading Excellences — Inner Life, Humility, Love to Christ, Laboriousness, Self- 
denial, Disinterestedness, Cheerfulness, Catholicity — Specimen of his Preaching.. 44 



IV. 

Sofjn S®pslep an& fjt'a pttntstrp. 

CHAPTER I. _, 

John Wesley — Reason why better known than many of his Contemporaries — Birth- 
place — Sketch of his Father and Mother — Educated at Charter-House and Oxford 
— Early Religious History — Ordained, 1725 — Lives at Oxford eight Years — Joins 
the Methodist Club — Sails for Georgia, 1736 — Returns to England, 1738 — Com- 
mences Field-preaching — Continues Working for fifty-three Years — Dies in 1791 — 
Singleness of Eye, Diligence, and Versatility of Mind — Arminianism 64 

CHAPTER II. 

Wesley's Preaching — Preface to Published Volume of Sermons — Extracts from Ser- 
mons Preached before the University of Oxford — Rules for the Guidance of his 
Helpers — Advice to his Preachers — Letter to the Bishop of Lincoln — General 
Estimate of Wesley's Merits 88 



gMIt'am ©rtmsfjato of ^atoorth, an& ijt's ptmfetrjj. 

CHAPTER I. 

Born at Brindle, 1708 — Educated at Christ's College, Cambridge — Ordained, 1731 — 
Curate of Rochdale and Todmorden — Death of his W T ife — Minister of Haworth, 
1742 — Description of Haworth — Style of his Ministry — His Manner of Life, Dili- 
gence, Charity, Love of Peace, Humility — His Ministerial Success 106 

CHAPTER II. 
Extra-Parochial Labour in Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Cheshire— The Nature of this 
Labour Explained and Defended — Persecution at Colne — The Archbishop of York's 
Visit to Haworth — His Love to the Articles and Homilies — His Last Illness, Dying 
Sayings, Death, and Funeral 120 

CHAPTER III. 
Literary Remains — Covenant and Summary of Belief— Letter to Christians in London 
— Anecdotes and Traditions — Influence in his Parish — Haworth Races Stopped — 
Mode of Discovering False Professors — Peculiarities in his Conduct of Divine 
Service — Testimony of Romaine, Venn, and Newton 133 






CONTENTS. vil 

VI. 

S&tllt'am Utomame antj fjia jWntsttg. 

CHAPTER I. 

Page 
Born at Hartlepool in 1714 — Educated at Houghton-le-Spring and Christ Church, 
Oxford — Character for Learning at Oxford — Ordained, 1736 — Curate of Lew- 
trenchard and Banstead — Lectures at St. Botolph's 1748, and St. Dunstan's 
1749 — Troubles at St. Dunstan's — Morning Preacher at St. George's, Hanover 
Square, 1750 — Loses his Preachership, 1755 — Gresham Professor of Astronomy — 
Morning Preacher at St. Olave, Southwark, and St. Bartholomew the Great — 
Preaches before the University of Oxford — Gives great Offence 149 

CHAPTER II. 

Rector of St. Anne's, Blackfriars, 1764 — Difficulties in the way of his Appointment — 
Letter to Lady Huntingdon — Usefulness at Blackfriars — Peculiarities of Address 
and Temperament — Last Illness and Dying Saying — Death, 1795 — Public Funeral 
— Literary Remains 163 



VII. 

Darnel Iftotolanus an& f)ts ifttintstrg. 

CHAPTER I. 

Born in Wales, 1713 — Educated at Hereford, and never at a University — Ordained, 
1733 — Curate of Llangeitho — An Altered Man in 1738 — Extraordinary Effect of his 
Preaching — Extra-parochial and Out-door Preaching — License Withdrawn by the 
Bishop in 1763 — Continues to Preach in a Chapel at Llangeitho — Died 1790 — 
Account of his Portrait 180 

CHAPTER II. 
Analysis of his Preaching — Much of Christ — Richness of Thought — Felicity of Lan- 
guage — Large Measure of Practical and Experimental Teaching — Manner, De- 
livery, and Voice — Christmas Evans' Description of his Preaching — Testimony of 
Mr. Jones of Creaton — Specimens of Rowlands' Sermons — Inner Life and Private 
Character — Humility, Prayerfulness, Diligence, Self-Denial, Courage, Fervour — 
Rowland Hill's Anecdote 195 



VIII. 

3foi)tt Bmt&ge anU fjta J*ttm'stt£. 

CHAPTER I. 

Born at Kingston, Notts, 1716 — Educated at Nottingham — Fails to learn the Business 
of a Grazier — Goes to Clare Hall, Cambridge, 1734 — Elected Fellow of Clare, 
1742 — Curate of Stapleford, 1749 — Vicar of Everton, 1755 — Begins to Preach the 
Full Gospel, 1757 — Open-air Preaching — Itinerant and Extra-parochial Ministra- 
tions^ — Singular Physical Effect on some Hearers — Opposition and Persecution — 
Dies, 1793 — His Epitaph 216 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER II. 

Page 
His Quaintness and Eccentricity — No Quaintness in his Outlines of Sermons — His 
Style of Preaching Defended — Specimen of his Quaint Thoughts — His Humility, 
Love of Christ, Kindness, Self-Denial, Shrewdness, Courage — His Sympathizing 
Letters 235 



IX. 

3§?enrg Venn anU f)t'a fftuustrg. 
chapter 1. 

Born at Barnes, Surrey, 1724 — His Ancestors — Curious Anecdotes of his Boyhood 
and Youth — Enters St. John's, Cambridge, 1742 — Fellow of Queen's, 1749 — Curate 
of West Horsley, 1750 — Curate of Clapham, 1754 — Change in his Religious Views 
— Becomes acquainted with Whitefield and Lady Huntingdon — Married, 1757 — 
Vicar of Huddersfield, 1759 254 

CHAPTER II. 
Mode of Working at Huddersfield — Effect of his Ministry — Fruits found in 1824 — Extra- 
parochial Labours — Friendly Relation with Whitefield — Health Fails — Wife Dies 
— Leaves Huddersfield for Yelling, r77i — Description of Yelling — Second Marriage 
— Description of Life at Yelling — Dies, 1797 268 

CHAPTER III. 

rlis Preaching Analyzed — His Literary Remains Examined — Extraordinary Power as a 
Letter-writer — Soundness of Judgment about Doctrine — Wisdom and Good Sense 
about Duties — Prudent Management of his Children — Unworldliness and Cheer- 
fulness — Catholicity and Kindliness of Spirit — Testimony of Cowper, Simeon, and 
Sir James Stephen , 285 



X. 

SSHalfen: of &ruro, ano fjts Jfttm'strg. 

Born at Exeter, 1714 — Educated at Exeter College, Oxford — Ordained, 1737 — Curate of 
Truro, 1746 — At First very ignorant of the Gospel — Mr. Conon's Influence — Effect 
of his Preaching — Opposition — Self-denial and Holy Life — Remarkable Effect on 
Soldiers — Private Unity Meetings — Died, 1761 — Literary Remains — Preaching. . . 306 



XI. 

Sfam^s ^erbeg of SSEeston jFabtll, anU fjfg ptt'm'strp. 

Born near Northampton, 1713 — Educated at Lincoln College, Oxford — Intimacy with 
John Wesley — Ordained, 1736 — Curate of Dummer, 1738; of Bidefbrd, 1740; and 
of Weston Favell, 1743 — Early Religious History — Correspondence with White- 
field — Studious Habit at Weston Favell — Literary Remains Analyzed — Corre- 
spondence— -Humour— Private Life — Charity— Self-denial— Died, 1758— Testi- 
mony of Romaine, Venn, Cowper, Cecil, Bickersteth, and Daniel Wilson 328 



CONTENTS. 



XII. 

Page 

®orIa&j? an& Jjts iftttm'sttg. 

Born at Farnham, 1740 — Ordained, 1762 — Vicar of Broad Hembury, Devonshire, 1768 
— Removes to London, 1775 — Dies, 1778 — Conversion, 1756 — His Preaching — His 
Writings as a Controversialist — His Hymns 358 



XIII. 

§\t\fyn of jftta&eleg, anli fjis ptt'm'strp. 

CHAPTER I. 

Born in Switzerland, 1729 — Educated at Geneva and Leutzburg — Wishes to be a Sol- 
dier — Becomes a Tutor in England, 1750 — Private Tutor in Mr. Hill's Family, 
1752 — Becomes Acquainted with Methodists — Inward Conflict — Ordained, 1757 — 
Vicar of Madeley, 1760 — Correspondence with Charles Wesley and Lady Hunt- 
ingdon 385 

CHAPTER II. 

Ministerial Labours at Madeley — Superintendent of Trevecca College, 1768 — Resigns 
Trevecca, 1771 — Laid aside by ill health, 1776 — Goes to Clifton, Newington, and 
Switzerland — Returns to Madeley, 1781 — Marries — Dies, S7S5— His Preaching — 
Writing — Private Character — Testimony of Wesley and Venn 405 



XIV. 
Conclusion , 426 



ENGLAND A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 




t JjMijgiottS mttr gfaral Cflnbiforn of ®nglanb 

AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 

Importance of the History of the Eighteenth Century — Political and Financial Position of 
England — Low State of Religion both in Churches and Chapels — Testimonies on the 
subject — Defects of Bishops and Clergy — Poverty of the Printed Theology — Wretched 
Condition of the Country as to Education, Morals, and popular Literature — The 
" Good Old Times" a mere Myth. 

HE subject I propose to handle in this volume is partly- 
historical and partly biographical. If any reader 
expects from the title a fictitious tale, or something 
partly drawn from my imagination, I fear he will be disappointed. 
Such writing is not in my province, and I have no leisure for it 
if it was. Facts, naked facts, and the stern realities of life, 
absorb all the time that I can spare for the press. 

I trust, however, that with most readers the subject I have 
chosen is one that needs no apology. The man who feels no 
interest in the history and biography of his own country is 
surely a poor patriot and a worse philosopher. 

" Patriot " he cannot be called. True patriotism will make 
an Englishman care for everything that concerns England. A 
true patriot will like to know something about every one who 



12 POLITICAL AND FINANCIAL 

has left his mark on English character, from the Venerable 
Bede down to Hugh Stowell, from Alfred the Great down to 
Pounds, the originator of Ragged Schools. 

" Philosopher " he certainly is not. What is philosophy but 
history teaching by examples 1 To know the steps by which 
England has reached her present position is essential to a right 
understanding both of our national privileges and our national 
dangers. To know the men whom God raised up to do his 
work in days gone by, will guide us in looking about for 
standard-bearers in our own days and days to come. 

I venture to think that there is no period of English history 
which is so thoroughly instructive to a Christian as the middle 
of last century. It* is the period of which we are feeling the 
influence at this very day. It is the period with which our 
grandfathers and great-grandfathers were immediately con- 
nected. It is a period, not least, from which we may draw 
most useful lessons for our own times. 

Let me begin by trying to describe the actual condition of 
England a hundred years ago. A few simple facts will suffice 
to make this plain. 

The reader will remember that I am not going to speak of 
our political condition. I might easily tell him that, in the days 
of Sir Robert Walpole, the Duke of Newcastle, and the elder 
Pitt, the position of England was very different from what it is 
now. Great statesmen and orators there were among us, no 
doubt. But our standing among the nations of the earth was 
comparatively poor, weak, and low. Our voice among the 
nations of the earth carried far less weight than it has since 
obtained. The foundation of our Indian Empire had hardly 
been laid. Our Australian possessions were a part of the world 
only just discovered, but not colonized. At home there was a 
strong party in the country which still longed for the restoration 
of the Stuarts. In 1745 the Pretender and a Highland army 
marched from Scotland to invade England, and got as far as 



POSITION OF ENGLAND. 13 

Derby. Corruption, jobbing, and mismanagement in high 
places were the rule, and purity the exception. Civil and 
religious disabilities still abounded. The test and corporation 
Acts were still unrepealed. To be a Dissenter was to be 
regarded as only one degree better than being seditious and a 
rebel. Rotten boroughs flourished. Bribery among all classes 
was open, unblushing, and profuse. Such was England politi- 
cally a hundred years ago. 

The reader will remember, furthermore, that I am not going 
to speak of our condition in a financial and economical point of 
view. Our vast cotton, silk, and linen manufactures had hardly 
begun to exist. Our enormous mineral treasures of coal and 
iron were scarcely touched. We had no steam-boats, no loco- 
motive engines, no railways, no gas, no electric telegraph, no 
penny post, no scientific farming, no macadamized roads, no 
free-trade, no sanitary arrangements, and no police deserving 
the name. Let any Englishman imagine, if he can, his country 
without any of the things that I have just mentioned, and he 
will have some faint idea of the economical and financial con- 
dition of England a hundred years ago. 

But I leave these things to the political economists and his- 
torians of this world. Interesting as they are, no doubt, they 
form no part of the subject that I want to dwell upon. I wish 
to treat that subject as a minister of Christ's gospel. It is the 
religious and moral condition of England a hundred years ago 
to which I shall confine my attention. Here is the point to 
which I wish to direct the reader's eye. 

The state of this country in a religious and moral point of 
view in the middle of last century was so painfully unsatisfac- 
tory that it is difficult to convey any adequate idea of it. Eng- 
lish people of the present day who have never been led to 
inquire into the subject, can have no conception of the dark- 
ness that prevailed. From the year 1700 till about the era of 
the French Revolution, England seemed barren of all that is 



14 LOW STATE OF RELIGION. 

really good. How such a state of things can have arisen in a 
land of free Bibles and professing Protestantism is almost past 
comprehension. Christianity seemed to lie as one dead, inso- 
much that you might have said " she is dead." Morality, how- 
ever much exalted in pulpits, was thoroughly trampled under 
foot in the streets. There was darkness in high places and 
darkness in low places — darkness in the court, the camp, the 
Parliament, and the bar — darkness in country, and darkness in 
town — darkness among rich and darkness among poor — a 
gross, thick, religious and moral darkness — a darkness that 
might be felt. 

Does any one ask what the churches were doing a hundred 
years ago ? The answer is soon given. The Church of Eng- 
land existed in those days, with her admirable articles, her 
time-honoured liturgy, her parochial system, her Sunday ser- 
vices, and her ten thousand clergy. The Nonconformist body 
existed, with its hardly won liberty and its free pulpit. But 
one account unhappily may be given of both parties. They 
existed, but they could hardly be said to have lived. They did 
nothing ; they were sound asleep. The curse of the Uniformity 
Act seemed to rest on the Church of England. The blight of 
ease and freedom from persecution seemed to rest upon the 
Dissenters. Natural theology, without a single distinctive doc- 
trine of Christianity, cold morality, or barren orthodoxy, formed 
the staple teaching both in church and chapel. Sermons every- 
where were little better than miserable moral essays, utterly 
devoid of anything likely to awaken, convert, or save souls. 
Both parties seemed at last agreed on one point, and that was 
to let the devil alone, and to do nothing for hearts and souls. 
And as for the weighty truths for which Hooper and Latimer 
had gone to the stake, and Baxter and scores of Puritans 
had gone to jail, they seemed clean forgotten and laid on the 
shelf. 

When such was the state of things in churches and chapels, 



ARCHBISHOP SEC KEFS CHARGE. 1 5 

it can surprise no one to learn that the land was deluged with 
infidelity and scepticism. The prince of this world made good 
use of his opportunity. His agents were active and zealous in 
promulgating every kind of strange and blasphemous opinion. 
Collins and Tindal denounced Christianity as priestcraft. 
Whiston pronounced the miracles of the Bible to be grand 
impositions. Woolston declared them to be allegories. Arian- 
ism and Socinianism were openly taught by Clark and Priestly, 
and became fashionable among the intellectual part of the com- 
munity. Of the utter incapacity of the pulpit to stem the pro- 
gress of all this flood of evil, one single fact will give us some 
idea. The celebrated lawyer, Blackstone, had the curiosity, 
early in the reign of George III., to go from church to church 
and hear every clergyman of note in London. He says that he 
did not hear a single discourse which had more Christianity in 
it than the writings of Cicero, and that it would have been im- 
possible for him to discover, from what he heard, whether the 
preacher were a follower of Confucius, of Mahomet, or of Christ ! 
Evidence about this painful subject is, unhappily, only too 
abundant. My difficulty is not so much to discover witnesses, 
as to select them. This was the period at which Archbishop 
Seeker said, in one of his charges, " In this we cannot be 
mistaken, that an open and professed disregard of religion 
is become, through a variety of unhappy causes, the distin- 
guishing character of the age. Such are the dissoluteness and 
contempt of principle in the higher part of the world, and the 
profligacy, intemperance, and fearlessness of committing crimes 
in the lower part, as must, if the torrent of impiety stop not, 
become absolutely fatal. Christianity is ridiculed and railed at 
with very little reserve ; and the teachers of it without any at 
all." This was the period when Bishop Butler, in his preface to 
the " Analogy," used the following remarkable words : " It has 
come to be taken for granted that Christianity is no longer a 
subject of inquiry ; but that it is now at length discovered to be 



1 6 DEFECTS OF BISHOPS 

fictitious. And accordingly it is treated as if, in the present age, 
this were an agreed point among all persons of discernment, 
and nothing remained but to set it up as a principal subject for 
mirth and ridicule." Nor were such complaints as these con- 
fined to Churchmen. Dr. Watts declares that in his day " there 
was a general decay of vital religion in the hearts and lives of 
men, and that it was a general matter of mournful observation 
among all who lay the cause of God to heart." Dr. Guyse, 
another most respectable Nonconformist, says, "The religion 
of nature makes up the darling topic of our age ; and the reli- 
gion of Jesus is valued only for the sake of that, and only so 
far as it carries on the light of nature, and is a bare improve- 
ment of that kind of light. All that is distinctively Christian, 
or that is peculiar to Christ, everything concerning him that has 
not its apparent foundation in natural light, or that goes beyond 
its principles, is waived, and banished and despised." Testi- 
mony like this might easily be multiplied tenfold. But I spare 
the reader. Enough probably has been adduced to prove that 
when I speak of the moral and religious condition of England 
at the beginning of the eighteenth century as painfully unsatis- 
factory, I do not use the language of exaggeration. 

What were the bishops of those days % Some of them were 
undoubtedly men of powerful intellect and learning, and of un- 
blamable lives. But the best of them, like Seeker, and Butler, 
and Gibson, and Lowth, and Horn, seemed unable to do more 
than deplore the existence of evils which they saw but knew 
not how to remedy. Others, like Lavington and Warburton, 
fulminated fierce charges against enthusiasm and fanaticism, 
and appeared afraid of England becoming too religious ! The 
majority of the bishops, to say the truth, were mere men of the 
world. They were unfit for their position. The prevailing 
tone of the Episcopal body may be estimated by the fact, that 
Archbishop Cornwallis gave balls and routs at Lambeth Palace 
until the king himself interfered by letter and requested him to 

(195) 



AND PAROCHIAL CLERGY. 17 

desist.* Let me also add, that when the occupants of the 
Episcopal bench were troubled by the rapid spread of White- 
field's influence, it was gravely suggested in high quarters that 
the best way to stop his influence was to make him a bishop. 

What were the parochial clergy of those days % The vast 
majority of them were sunk in woridliness, and neither knew 
nor cared anything about their profession. They neither did 
good themselves, nor liked any one else to do it for them. They 
hunted, they shot, they farmed, they swore, they drank, they 
gambled. They seemed determined to know everything except 
Jesus Christ and him crucified. When they assembled it was 
generally to toast " Church and King," and to build one another 
up in earthly-mindedness, prejudice, ignorance, and formality. 
When they retired to their own homes, it was to do as little and 
preach as seldom as possible. And when they did preach, 
their sermons were so unspeakably and indescribably bad, that 
it is comforting to reflect they were generally preached to empty 
benches. 

What sort of theological literature was a hundred years ago 
bequeathed to us % The poorest and weakest in the English 
language. This is the age to which we owe such divinity as 
that of the " Whole Duty of Man," and the sermons of Tillotson 



* The king's letter on this occasion is so curious, that I give it in its entirety, as I find 
it in that interesting though ill-arranged book, "The Life and Times of Lady Hunting- 
don." The letter was evidently written in consequence of an interview which Lady 
Huntingdon had with the king. A critical reader will remember that the king was pro- 
bably more familiar with the German than the English language. 

" My good Lord Prelate, — I could not delay giving you the notification of the grief 
and concern with which my breast was affected at receiving authentic information that 
routs have made their way into your palace. At the same time, I must signify to you my 
sentiments on this subject, which hold these levities and vain dissipations as utterly inex- 
pedient, if not unlawful, to pass in a residence for many centuries devoted to divine studies, 
religious retirement, and the extensive exercise of charity and benevolence ; I add, in a 
place where so many of your predecessors have led their lives in such sanctity as has 
thrown lustre on the pure religion they professed and adorned. From the dissatisfaction 
with which you must perceive I behold these improprieties, not to speak in harsher terms, 
and on still more pious principles, I trust you will suppress them immediately ; so that I 
may not have occasion to show any further marks of my displeasure, or to interpose in a 
different manner. May God take your grace into his almighty protection ! — I remain, my 
Lord Primate, your gracious friend, G. R." 

(195) 2 



1 8 EDUCATION, MORALS, AND 

and Blair. Inquire at any old bookseller's shop, and you will 
find there is no theology so unsaleable as the sermons published 
about the middle and latter part of last century. 

What sort of education had the lower orders a hundred years 
ago % In the greater part of parishes, and especially in rural 
districts, they had no education at all. Nearly all our rural 
schools have been built since 1800. So extreme was the ignor- 
ance, that a Methodist preacher in Somersetshire was charged 
before the magistrates with swearing, because in preaching he 
quoted the text, "He that believeth not shall be damned!" 
While, not to be behind Somersetshire, Yorkshire furnished a 
constable who brought Charles Wesley before the magistrates as 
a favourer of the Pretender, because in public prayer he asked 
the Lord to "bring back his banished ones!" To cap all, the 
vice-chancellor of Oxford actually expelled six students from 
the University because " they held Methodistic tenets, and took 
on them to pray, read, and expound Scripture in private houses." 
To swear extempore, it was remarked by some, brought an 
Oxford student into no trouble ; but to pray extempore was an 
offence not to be borne ! 

What were the morals of a hundred years ago? It may suf- 
fice to say that duelling, adultery, fornication, gambling, swear- 
ing, Sabbath-breaking and drunkenness were hardly regarded as 
vices at all. They were the fashionable practices of people in 
the highest ranks of society, and no one was thought the worse 
of for indulging in them. The best evidence of this point is 
to be found in Hogarth's pictures. 

What was the popular literature of a hundred years ago % I 
pass over the fact that Bolingbroke, and Gibbon, and Hume 
the historian, were all deeply dyed with scepticism. I speak 
of the light reading which was most in vogue. Turn to 
the pages of Fielding, Smollett, Swift, and Sterne, and you have 
the answer. The cleverness of these writers is undeniable ; 
but the indecency of many of their writings is so glaring and 



LITERATURE OF THE PERIOD. 1 9 

gross, that few people now-a-days would like to allow their 
works to be seen on their drawing-room table. 

My picture, I fear, is a very dark and gloomy one. I wish 
it were in my power to throw a little more light into it. But 
facts are stubborn things, and specially facts about literature. 
The best literature of a hundred years ago is to be found in the 
moral writings of Addison, Johnson, and Steele. But the 
effects of such literature on the general public, it may be feared, 
was innnitesimally small. In fact, I believe that Johnson 
and the essayists had no more influence on the religion and 
morality of the masses than the broom of the renowned Mrs. 
Partington had on the waves of the Atlantic Ocean. 

To sum up all, and bring this part of my subject to a conclu- 
sion, I ask my readers to remember that the good works with 
which every one is now familiar did not exist one hundred 
years ago. Wilberforce had not yet attacked the slave trade. 
Howard had not yet reformed prisons. Raikes had not estab- 
lished Sunday schools. We had no Bible Societies, no ragged 
schools, no city missions, no pastoral aid societies, no missions 
to the heathen. The spirit of slumber was over the land. In 
a religious and moral point of view, England was sound asleep. 

I cannot help remarking, as I draw this chapter to a conclu- 
sion, that we ought to be more thankful for the times in which 
we live. I fear we are far too apt to look at the evils we see 
around us, and to forget how much worse things were a hundred 
years ago. I have no faith, for my part, and I boldly avow it, 
in those "good old times" of which some delight to speak. I 
regard them as a mere fable and a myth. I believe that our 
own times are the best times that England has ever seen. I do 
not say this boastfully. I know we have many things to de- 
plore ; but I do say that we might be worse. I do say that we 
were much worse a hundred years ago. The general standard 
of religion and morality is undoubtedly far higher. At all 
events, in 1868, we are awake. We see and feel evils to which, 



20 THE " GOOD OLD TIMES" A MYTH. 

a hundred years ago, men were insensible. We struggle to be 
free from these evils ; we desire to amend. This is a vast im- 
provement. With all our many faults we are not sound asleep. 
On every side there is stir, activity, movement, progress, and 
not stagnation. Bad as we are, we confess our badness ; weak 
as we are, we acknowledge our failings ; feeble as our efforts 
are, we strive to amend ; little as we do for Christ, we do try 
to do something. Let us thank God for this ! Things might 
be worse. Comparing our own days with the middle of last 
century, we have reason to thank God and take courage. Eng- 
land is in a better state than it was a hundred years ago. 




II. 
in (ffinglanir 

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 

Improvement of England since middle of Eighteenth Century an undeniable Fact — Agents 
in effecting the Change a few isolated and humble Clergymen — Preaching the chief 
Instrument they employed — The Manner of their Preaching — The Substance of their 
Preaching. 

[HAT a great change for the better has come over Eng- 
land in the last hundred years is a fact which I sup- 
pose no well-informed person would ever attempt to 
deny. You might as well attempt to deny that there was a 
Protestant Reformation in the days of Luther, a Long Parlia- 
ment in the time of Cromwell, or a French republic at the end 
of the last century. There has been a vast change for the 
better. Both in religion and morality the country has gone 
through a complete revolution. . People neither think, nor talk, 
nor act as they did in 1750. It is a great fact, which the chil- 
dren of this world cannot deny, however they may attempt to 
explain it. They might as well try to persuade us that high-water 
and low-water at London Bridge are one and the same thing. 

But by what agency was this great change effected? To 
whom are we indebted for the immense improvement in religion 
and morality which undoubtedly has come over the land? Who, 
in a word, were the instruments that God employed in bringing 
about the great English Reformation of the eighteenth century? 



2 2 IMPROVEMENT OF ENGLAND 

This is the one point that I wish to examine generally in the 
present chapter. The names and biographies of the principal 
agents I shall reserve for future chapters. 

The government of the country can lay no claim to the credit 
of the change. Morality cannot be called into being by penal 
enactments and statutes. People were never yet made religious 
by Acts of Parliament. At any rate, the Parliaments and ad- 
ministrations of last century did as little for religion and moral- 
ity as any that ever existed in England. 

Nor yet did the change come from the Church of England, 
as a body. The leaders of that venerable communion were 
utterly unequal to the times. Left to herself, the Church of 
England would probably have died of dignity, and sunk at her 
anchors. 

Nor yet did the change come from the Dissenters. Content 
with their hardly-won triumphs, that worthy body of men 
seemed to rest upon their oars. In the plenary enjoyment of 
their rights of conscience, they forgot the great vital principles 
of their forefathers, and their own duties and responsibilities. 

Who, then, were the reformers of the last century ? To whom 
are we indebted, under God, for the change which took place % 

The men who wrought deliverance for us, a hundred years 
ago, were a few individuals, most of them clergymen of the 
Established Church, whose hearts God touched about the same 
time in various parts of the country. They were not wealthy 
or highly connected. They had neither money to buy ad- 
herents, nor family influence to command attention and respect. 
They were not put forward by any Church, party, society, or 
institution. They were simply men whom God stirred up and 
brought out to do his work, without previous concert, scheme, 
or plan. They did his work in the old apostolic way, by 
becoming the evangelists of their day. They taught one set of 
truths. They taught them in the same way, with fire, reality, 
earnestness, as men fully convinced of what they taught. They 



AN UNDENIABLE FACT. ' 23 

taught them in the same spirit, always loving, compassionate, 
and, like Paul, even weeping, but always bold, unflinching, and 
not fearing the face of man. And they taught them on the 
same plan, always acting on the aggressive ; not waiting for 
sinners to come to them, but going after, and seeking sinners ; 
not sitting idle till sinners offered to repent, but assaulting the 
high places of ungodliness like men storming a breach, and 
giving sinners no rest so long as they stuck to their sins. 

The movement of these gallant evangelists shook England 
from one end to another. At first people in high places 
affected to despise them. The men of letters sneered at them 
as fanatics; the wits cut jokes, and invented smart names for 
them; the Church shut her doors on them; the Dissenters 
turned the cold shoulder on them ; the ignorant mob persecuted 
them. But the movement of these few evangelists went on, and 
made itself felt in every part of the land. Many were aroused 
and awakened to think about religion ; many were shamed out 
of their sins ; many were restrained and frightened at their own 
ungodliness ; many were gathered together and induced to pro- 
fess a decided hearty religion ; many were converted ; many 
who affected to dislike the movement were secretly provoked 
to emulation. The little sapling became a strong tree ; the 
little rill became a deep, broad stream ; the little spark became 
a steady burning flame. A candle was lighted, of which we are 
now enjoying the benefit. The feeling of all classes in the land 
about religion and morality gradually assumed a totally different 
complexion. And all this, under God, was effected by a few 
unpatronized, unpaid adventurers ! When God takes a work 
in hand, nothing can stop it. When God is for us, none can 
be against us. 

The instrumentality by which the spiritual reformers of the 
last century carried on their operations was of the simplest 
description. It was neither more nor less than the old apostolic 
weapon of preaching. The sword which St. Paul wielded with 



24 THE INSTRUMEN1 EMPLOYED. 

such mighty effect, when he assaulted the strongholds of hea- 
thenism eighteen hundred years ago, was the same sword by 
which they won their victories. To say, as some have done, 
that they neglected education and schools, is totally incorrect. 
Wherever they gathered congregations, they cared for the chil- 
dren. To say, as others have done, that they neglected the 
sacraments, is simply false. Those who make that assertion 
only expose their entire ignorance of the religious history of 
England a hundred years ago. It would be easy to name men 
among the leading reformers of the last century whose com- 
municants might be reckoned by hundreds, and who honoured 
the Lord's Supper more than forty-nine out of fifty clergymen 
in their day. But beyond doubt preaching was their favourite 
weapon. They wisely went back to first principles, and took 
up apostolic plans. They held, with St. Paul, that a minister's 
first work is " to preach the gospel." 

They preached everywhere. If the pulpit of a parish church 
was open to them, they gladly availed themselves of it. If it 
could not be obtained, they were equally ready to preach in a 
barn. No place came amiss to them. In the field or by the 
road-side, on the village-green or in a market-place, in lanes or 
in alleys, in cellars or in garrets, on a tub or on a table, on a 
bench or on a horse-block, wherever hearers could be gathered, 
the spiritual reformers of the last century were ready to speak 
to them about their souls. They were instant in season and 
out of season in doing the fisherman's work, and compassed sea 
and land in carrying forward their Father's business. Now, all 
this was a new thing. Can we wonder that it produced a great 
effect ? 

They preached simply. They rightly concluded that the very 
first qualification to be aimed at in a sermon is to be under- 
stood. They saw clearly that thousands of able and well-com- 
posed sermons are utterly useless, because they are above the 
heads of the hearers. They strove to come down to the level 



PREACHING TO THE HEART 25 

of the people, and to speak what the poor could understand. 
To attain this they were not ashamed to crucify their style, and 
to sacrifice their reputation for learning. To attain this they 
used illustrations and anecdotes in abundance, and, like their 
divine Master, borrowed lessons from every object in nature. 
They carried out the maxim of Augustine, — " A wooden key is 
not so beautiful as a golden one, but if it can open the door 
when the golden one cannot, it is far more useful." They re- 
vived the style of sermons in which Luther and Latimer used 
to be so eminently successful. In short, they saw the truth of 
what the great German reformer meant when he said, " No one 
can be a good preacher to the people who is not willing to 
preach in a manner that seems childish and vulgar to some." 
Now, all this again was quite new a hundred years ago. 

They preached fervently and directly. They cast aside that 
dull, cold, heavy, lifeless mode of delivery, which had long made 
sermons a very proverb for dulness. They proclaimed the 
words of faith with faith, and the story of life with life. They 
spoke with fiery zeal, like men who were thoroughly persuaded 
that what they said was true, and that it was of the utmost 
importance to your eternal interest to hear it. They spoke like 
men who had got a message from God to you, and must deliver 
it, and must have your attention while they delivered it. They 
threw heart and soul and feeling into their sermons, and sent 
their hearers home convinced, at any rate, that the preacher 
was sincere and wished them well. They believed that you 
must speak from the heart if you wish to speak to the heart, 
and that there must be unmistakable faith and conviction 
within the pulpit if there is to be faith and conviction among 
the pews. All this, I repeat, was a thing that had become 
almost obsolete a hundred years ago. Can we wonder that it 
took people by storm, and produced an immense effect 1 

But what was the substance and subject-matter of the preach- 
ing which produced such wonderful effect a hundred years ago 1 



26 THE SUBSTANCE AND SUBJECT-MATTER 

I will not insult my readers' common sense by only saying that 
it was " simple, earnest, fervent, real, genial, brave, life-like," 
and so forth ; I would have it understood that it was eminently 
doctrinal, positive, dogmatical, and distinct. The strongholds 
of the last century's sins would never have been cast down by 
mere earnestness and negative teaching. The trumpets which 
blew down the walls of Jericho were trumpets which gave no 
uncertain sound. The English evangelists of last century were 
not men of an uncertain creed. But what was it that they 
proclaimed 1 A little information on this point may not be 
without use. 

For one thing, then, the spiritual reformers of the last century 
taught constantly the sufficiency and supremacy of Holy Scripture. 
The Bible, whole and unmutilated, was their sole rule of faith 
and practice. They accepted all its statements without ques- 
tion or dispute. They knew nothing of any part of Scripture 
being uninspired. They never allowed that man has any 
" verifying faculty " within him, by which Scripture statements 
may be weighed, rejected, or received. They never flinched 
from asserting that there can be no error in the Word of God ; 
and that when we cannot understand or reconcile some part of 
its contents, the fault is in the interpreter and not in the text. 
In all their preaching they were eminently men of one book. 
To that book they were content to pin their faith, and by it to 
stand or fall. This was one grand characteristic of their 
preaching. They honoured, they loved, they reverenced the Bible. 

Furthermore, the reformers of the last century taught con- 
stantly the total corruptio7i of human nature. They knew nothing 
of the modern notion that Christ is in every man, and that all 
possess something good within, which they have only to stir up 
and use in order to be saved. They never flattered men and 
women in this fashion. They told them plainly that they were 
dead, and must be made alive again ; that they were guilty, 
lost, helpless, and hopeless, and in imminent danger of eternal 






OF THE PREACHING. 27 

ruin. Strange and paradoxical as it may seem to some, their 
first step towards making men good was to show them that 
they were utterly bad ; and their primary argument in persuad- 
ing men to do something for their souls was to convince them 
that they could do nothing at all. 

Furthermore, the reformers of the last century taught con- 
stantly that Christ's death upon the cross was the only satisfaction 
for marts sin ; and that, when Christ died, he died as our sub- 
stitute — " the just for the unjust." This, in fact, was the cardi- 
nal point in almost all their sermons. They never taught the 
modern doctrine that Christ's death was only a great example 
of self-sacrifice. They saw in it something far higher, greater, 
deeper than this. They saw in it the payment of man's mighty 
debt to God. They loved Christ's person ; they rejoiced in 
Christ's promises ; they urged men to walk after Christ's 
example. But the one subject, above all others, concerning 
Christ, which they delighted to dwell on, was the atoning blood 
which Christ shed for us on the cross. 

Furthermore, the reformers of the last century taught con- 
stantly the great doctrine of justification by faith. They told 
men that faith was the one thing needful in order to obtain an 
interest in Christ's work for their souls ; that before we believe, 
we are dead, and have no interest in Christ ; and that the 
moment we do believe, we live, and have a plenary title to all 
Christ's benefits. Justification by virtue of church member- 
ship — justification without believing or trusting — were notions 
to which they gave no countenance. Everything, if you will 
believe, and the moment you believe ; nothing, if you do not 
believe, — was the very marrow of their preaching. 

Furthermore, the reformers of the last century taught con- 
stantly the universal necessity of heart conversion and a new 
creation by the Holy Spirit. They proclaimed everywhere to 
the crowds whom they addressed, " Ye must be born again." 
Son ship to God by baptism — sonship to God while we do the 



28 THE SUBSTANCE AND SUBJECT-MATTER 

will of the devil — such sonship they never admitted. The 
regeneration which they preached was no dormant, torpid, 
motionless thing. It was something that could be seen, dis- 
cerned, and known by its effects. 

Furthermore, the reformers of the last century taught con- 
stantly the inseparable connection between true faith aiid personal 
holiness. They never allowed for a moment that any church 
membership or religious profession was the least proof of a man 
being a true Christian if he lived an ungodly life. A true Chris- 
tian, they maintained, must always be known by his fruits ; and 
these fruits must be plainly manifest and unmistakable in all 
the relations of life. " No fruits, no grace," was the unvarying 
tenor of their preaching. 

Finally, the reformers of the last century taught constantly, 
as doctrines both equally true, God's eternal hatred against sin, 
and God's love towards sinners. They knew nothing of a " love 
lower than hell," and a heaven where holy and unholy are all 
at length to find admission. Both about heaven and hell they 
used the utmost plainness of speech. They never shrunk from 
declaring, in plainest terms, the certainty of God's judgment 
and of wrath to come, if men persisted in impenitence and 
unbelief; and yet they never ceased to magnify the riches of 
God's kindness and compassion, and to entreat all sinners to 
repent and turn to God before it was too late. 

Such were the main truths which the English evangelists of 
last century were constantly preaching. These were the princi-. 
pal doctrines which they were always proclaiming, whether in 
town or in country, whether in church or in the open air, 
whether among rich or among poor. These were the doctrines 
by which they turned England upside down, made ploughmen 
and colliers weep till their dirty faces were seamed with tears, 
arrested the attention of peers and philosophers, stormed the 
strongholds of Satan, plucked thousands like brands from the 
burning, and altered the character of the age. Call them simple 



OF THE PREACHING. 29 

and elementary doctrines if you will. Say, if you please, that 
you see nothing grand, striking, new, peculiar about this list of 
truths. But the fact is undeniable, that God blessed these 
truths to the reformation of England a hundred years ago 
What God has blessed it ill becomes man to despise. 



III. 



CHAPTER I. 







Whitefield's Birth-place and Parentage — Educated at Gloucester Grammar School— Enters 
Pembroke College, Oxford — Season of Spiritual Conflict — Books which were made 
useful to him — Ordained by Bishop Benson — First Sermon — Preaches in London — 
Curate of Dummer, Hants — Goes to America — Returns in a Year — Preaches in the 
open air — Is excluded from most London Pulpits — Extent of his Labours for thirty-one 
years — Dies at Newbury Port, America, in 1770 — Interesting circumstances of his Death. 

HO were the men that revived religion in England a 
hundred years ago 1 What were their names, that we 
may do them honour 1 Where were they born 1 How 
were they educated 1 What are the leading facts in their lives 1 
What was their special department of labour 1 To these questions 
I wish to supply some answers in the present and future chapters. 

I pity the man who takes no interest in such inquiries. The 
instruments that God employs to do his work in the world 
deserve a close inspection. The man who did not care to look 
at the rams' horns that blew down Jericho, the hammer and 
nail that slew Sisera, the lamps and trumpets of Gideon, the 
sling and stone of David, might fairly be set down as a cold 
and heartless person. I trust that all who read this volume 
will like to know something about the English evangelists of the 
eighteenth century. 

The first and foremost whom I will name is the well-known 
George Whitefield. Though not the first in order, if we look 



WHITEFIELD" S BIR TH-PLA CE. 3 I 

at the date of his birth, I place him first in the order of merit, 
without any hesitation. Of all the spiritual heroes of a hundred 
years ago none saw so soon as Whitefield what the times 
demanded, and none were so forward in the great work of 
spiritual aggression. I should think I committed an act of 
injustice if I placed any name before his. 

Whitefield was born at Gloucester in the year 17 14. That 
venerable county-town, which was his birth-place, is connected 
with more than one name which ought to be dear to every 
lover of Protestant truth. Tyndal, one of the first and ablest 
translators of the English Bible, was a Gloucestershire man. 
Hooper, one of the greatest and best of our English reformers, 
was Bishop of Gloucester, and was burned at the stake for 
Christ's truth, within view of his own cathedral, in Queen 
Mary's reign. In the next century Miles Smith, Bishop of 
Gloucester, was one of the first to protest against the Romaniz- 
ing proceedings of Laud, who was then Dean of Gloucester. 
In fact, he carried his Protestant feeling so far that, when Laud 
moved the communion-table in the cathedral to the east end, 
and placed it for the first time "altar-wise," in 16 16, Bishop 
Smith was so much offended that he refused to enter the walls 
of the cathedral from that day till his death. Places like 
Gloucester, we need not doubt, have a rich entailed inheritance 
of many prayers. The city where Hooper preached and 
prayed, and where the zealous Miles Smith protested, was the 
place where the greatest preacher of the gospel England has 
ever seen was born. 

Like many other famous men, Whitefield was of humble 
origin, and had no rich or noble connections to help him for- 
ward in the world. His mother kept the Bell Inn at Glouces- 
ter, and appears not to have prospered in business ; at any 
rate, she never seems to have been able to do anything for 
Whitefield's advancement in life. The inn itself is still stand- 
ing, and is reputed to be the birth-place, not only of our greatest 



32 EDUCATED AT THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL. 

English preacher, but also of a well-known English prelate— 
Henry Philpot, Bishop of Exeter. 

Whitefleld's early life, according to his own account, was 
anything but religious ; though, like many boys, he had occa- 
sional prickings of conscience and spasmodic fits of devout 
feeling. But habits and general tastes are the only true test of 
young people's characters. He confesses that he was " addicted 
to lying, filthy talking, and foolish jesting," and that he was 
a " Sabbath-breaker, a theatre-goer, a card-player, and a 
romance-reader." All this, he says, went on till he was fifteen 
years old. 

Poor as he was, his residence at Gloucester procured him the 
advantage of a good education at the Free Grammar School of 
that city. Here he was a day-scholar until he was fifteen. 
Nothing is known of his progress there. He can hardly, how- 
ever, have been quite idle, or else he would not have been 
ready to enter an University afterwards at the age of eighteen. 
His letters, moreover, show an acquaintance with Latin, in the 
shape of frequent quotations, which is seldom acquired, if not 
picked up at school. The only known fact about his school- 
days is this curious one, that even then he was remarkable for 
his good elocution and memory, and was selected to recite 
speeches before the Corporation of Gloucester at their annual 
visitation of the Grammar School. 

At the age of fifteen Whitefield appears to have left school, 
and to have given up Latin and Greek for a season. In all 
probability, his mother's straitened circumstances made it abso- 
lutely necessary for him to do something to assist her in busi- 
ness and to get his own living. He began, therefore, to help 
her in the daily work of the Bell Inn. " At length," he 
says, " I put on my blue apron, washed cups, cleaned rooms, 
and, in one word, became a professed common drawer for nigh 
a year and a half." 

This state of things, however, did not last long. His mother's 



HIS RESIDENCE AT OXFORD. 33 

business at the Bell did not flourish, and she finally retired from 
it altogether. An old school-fellow revived in his mind the 
idea of going to Oxford, and he went back to the Grammar 
School and renewed his studies. Friends were raised up who 
made interest for him at Pembroke College, Oxford, where the 
Grammar School of Gloucester held two exhibitions. And at 
length, after several providential circumstances had smoothed 
the way, he entered Oxford as a servitor at Pembroke at the age 
of eighteen.* 

Whitefield's residence at Oxford was the great turning-point 
in his life. For two or three years before he went to the Uni- 
versity his journal tells us that he had not been without religious 
convictions. But from the time of his entering Pembroke College 
these convictions fast ripened into decided Christianity. He 
diligently attended all means of grace within his reach. He 
?pent his leisure time in visiting the city prison, reading to the 
prisoners, and trying to do good. He became acquainted with 
the famous John Wesley and his brother Charles, and a little 
band of like-minded young men, including the well-known author 
of " Theron and Aspasio," James Hervey. These were the de- 
voted party to whom the name " Methodists " was first applied, 
on account of their strict " method " of living. At one time he 
seems to have greedily devoured such books 'as " Thomas a 
Kempis," and " Castanuza's Spiritual Combat," and to have been 
in danger of becoming a semi-papist, an ascetic, or a mystic, 
and of placing the whole of religion in self-denial. He says in 
his Journal, " I always chose the worst sort of food. I fasted 
twice a week. My apparel was mean. I thought it unbecom- 
ing a penitent to have his hair powdered. I wore woollen gloves, 
a patched gown, and dirty shoes ; and though I was convinced 

* Happening to be at Oxford in June 1865, I went to Pembroke College, and asked 
whether any one knew the rooms which Whitefield occupied when he was at Oxford 
The porter informed me that nothing whatever was known about them. The rooms which 
the famous Dr. Johnson occupied aPPembroke are still pointed out. Johnson left Oxford 
just before Whitefield went up. 

U»5) 3 



34 ORDAINED BY BISHOP BENSON. 

that the kingdom of God did not consist in meat and drink, yet 
I resolutely persisted in these voluntary acts of self-denial, 
because I found in them great promotion of the spiritual life." 
Out of all this darkness he was gradually delivered, partly by 
the advice of one or two experienced Christians, and partly by 
reading such books as Scougal's " Life of God in the Heart of 
Man," Law's " Serious Call," Baxter's " Call to the Unconverted," 
Alleine's " Alarm to Unconverted Sinners," and Matthew 
Henry's " Commentary." " Above all," he says, " my mind 
being now more opened and enlarged, I began to read the Holy 
Scriptures upon my knees, laying aside all other books, and 
praying over, if possible, every line and word. This proved 
meat indeed and drink indeed to my soul. I daily received 
fresh life, light, and power from above. I got more true know- 
ledge from reading the book of God in one month than I could 
ever have acquired from all the writings of men." Once taught 
to understand the glorious liberty of Christ's gospel, Whitefield 
never turned again to asceticism, legalism, mysticism, or strange 
views of Christian perfection. The experience received by bitter 
conflict was most valuable to him. The doctrines of free grace, 
once thoroughly grasped, took deep root in his heart, and 
became, as it were, bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. Of 
all the little band of Oxford methodists, none seem to have got 
hold so soon of clear views of Christ's gospel as he did, and 
none kept it so unwaveringly to the end. 

At the early age of twenty-two Whitefield was admitted to 
holy orders by Bishop Benson of Gloucester, on Trinity Sunday, 
1736. His ordination was not of his own seeking. The bishop 
heard of his character from Lady Selwyn and others, sent for 
him, gave him five guineas to buy books, and offered to ordain 
him, though only twenty-two years old, whenever he wished. 
This unexpected offer came to him when he was full of scruples 
about his own fitness for the ministry. It cut the knot and 
brought him to the point of decision. "I began to think." 



HIS FIRST SERMON. 35 

he says, " that if I held out longer I should fight against 
God." 

Whitefield's first sermon was preached in the very town where 
he was born, at the church of St. Mary-le-Crypt, Gloucester. 
His own description of it is the best account that can be given : 
— "Last Sunday, in the afternoon, I preached my first sermon 
in the church of St. Mary-le-Crypt, where I was baptized, and 
also first received the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. Curiosity, 
as you may easily guess, drew a large congregation together 
upon this occasion. The sight at first a little awed me. But 
I was comforted with a heartfelt sense of the divine presence, 
and soon found the unspeakable advantage of having been 
accustomed to public speaking when a boy at school, and of 
exhorting the prisoners and poor people at their private houses 
while at the university. By these means I was kept from being 
daunted overmuch. . As I proceeded I perceived the fire kindled, 
till at last, though so young and amidst a crowd of those who 
knew me in my childish days, I trust I was enabled to speak 
with some degree of gospel authority. Some few mocked, but 
most seemed for the present struck ; and I have since heard 
that a complaint was made to the bishop that I drove fifteen 
mad the first sermon ! The worthy prelate wished that the 
madness might not be forgotten before next Sunday." 

Almost immediately after his ordination, Whitefield went to 
Oxford and took his degree as Bachelor of Arts. He then 
commenced his regular ministerial life by undertaking tempo- 
rary duty at the Tower Chapel, London, for two months. While 
engaged there he preached continually in many London churches; 
and among others, in the parish churches of Islington, Bishops- 
gate, St. Dunstan's, St. Margaret's, Westminster, and Bow, 
Cheapside. From the very first he obtained a degree of popu- 
larity such as no preacher, before or since, has probably ever 
reached. Whether on week-days or Sundays, wherever he 
preached, the churches were crowded, and an immense sensa 



36 HIS VISIT TO AMERICA. 

tion was produced. The plain truth is, that a really eloquent, 
extempore preacher, preaching the pure gospel with most un- 
common gifts of voice and manner, was at that time an entire 
novelty in London. The congregations were taken by surprise 
and carried by storm. 

From London he removed for two months to Dummer, a 
little rural parish in Hampshire, near Basingstoke. This was a 
totally new sphere of action, and he seemed like a man buried 
alive among poor illiterate people. But he was soon reconciled 
to it, and thought afterwards that he reaped much profit by 
conversing with the poor. From Dummer he accepted an 
invitation, which had been much pressed on him by the Wesleys, 
to visit the colony of Georgia in North America, and assist in 
the care of an Orphan House which had been set up near 
Savannah for the children of colonists. After preaching for a 
few months in Gloucestershire, and especially at Bristol and 
Stonehouse, he sailed for America in the latter part of 1737, 
and continued there about a year. The affairs of this Orphan 
House, it may be remarked, occupied much of his attention 
from this period of his life till he died. Though well-meant, it 
seems to have been a design of very questionable wisdom, and 
certainly entailed on Whitefield a world of anxiety and responsi- 
bility to the end of his days. 

Whitefield returned from Georgia at the latter part of the 
year 1738, partly to obtain priest's orders, which were conferred 
on him by his old friend Bishop Benson, and partly on business 
connected with the Orphan House. He soon, however, dis- 
covered that his position was no longer what it was before he 
sailed for Georgia. The bulk of the clergy were no longer 
favourable to him, and regarded him with suspicion as an 
enthusiast and a fanatic. They were especially scandalized by 
his preaching the doctrine of regeneration or the new birth, as 
a thing which many baptized persons greatly needed ! The 
number of pulpits to which he had access rapidly diminished. 



OPEN-AIR PREACHING. 37 

Churchwardens, who had no eyes for drunkenness and impurity^ 
were filled with intense indignation about what they called 
" breaches of order." Bishops who could tolerate Arianism, 
Socinianism, and Deism, were filled with indignation at a man 
who declared fully the atonement of Christ and the work of the 
Holy Ghost, and began to denounce him openly. In short, 
from this period of his life, Whiteneld's field of usefulness within 
the Church of England narrowed rapidly on every side. 

The step which at this juncture gave a turn to the whole 
current of Whitefield's ministry was his adoption of the system 
of open-air preaching. Seeing that thousands everywhere would 
attend no place of worship, spent their Sundays in idleness or 
sin, and were not to be reached by sermons within walls, he 
resolved, in the spirit of holy aggression, to go out after them 
"into the highways and hedges," on his Master's principle, and 
" compel them to come in." His first attempt to do this was 
among the colliers at Kingswood near Bristol, in February 1739. 
After much prayer he one day went to Hannam Mount, and 
standing upon a hill began to preach to about a hundred colliers 
upon Matt, v, 1-3. The thing soon became known. The 
number of hearers rapidly increased, till the congregation 
amounted to many thousands. His own account of the be- 
haviour of these neglected colliers, who had never been in a 
church in their lives, is deeply affecting : — " Having," he writes 
to a friend, "no righteousness of their own to renounce, they 
were glad to hear of a Jesus who was a friend to publicans, and 
came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance. The 
first discovery of their being affected was the sight of the white 
gutters made by their tears, which plentifully fell down their 
black cheeks as they came out of their coal-pits. Hundreds of 
them were soon brought under deep conviction, which, as the 
event proved, happily ended in a sound and thorough conver- 
sion. The change was visible to all, though numbers chose tc 
impute it to anything rather than the finger of God. As the 



38 FORBIDDEN TO PREACH. 

scene was quite new, it often occasioned many inward conflicts 
Sometimes, when twenty thousand people were before me, I had 
not in my own apprehension a word to say either to God or 
them. But I was never totally deserted, and frequently (for to 
deny it would be lying against God) was so assisted that I knew 
by happy experience what our Lord meant by saying, ' Out of 
his belly shall flow rivers of living water.' The open firmament 
above me, the prospect of the adjacent fields, with the sight of 
thousands, some in coaches, some on horseback, and some in 
the trees, and at times all affected and in tears, was almost too 
much for, and quite overcame me." 

Two months after this Whitefield began the practice of open- 
air preaching in London, on April 27, 1739. The circumstances 
under which this happened were curious. He had gone to 
Islington to preach for the vicar, his friend Mr.. Stonehouse. 
In the midst of the prayer the churchwardens came to him and 
demanded his license for preaching in the diocese of London. 
Whitefield, of course, had not got this license any more than 
any clergyman not regularly officiating in the diocese has at 
this day. The upshot of the matter was, that being forbidden 
by the churchwardens to preach in the pulpit, he went outside 
after the communion-service, and preached in the churchyard. 
" And," says he, " God was pleased so to assist me in preaching, 
and so wonderfully to affect the hearers, that I believe we could 
have gone singing hymns to prison. Let not the adversaries 
say, I have thrust myself out of their synagogues. No ; they 
have thrust me out." 

From that day forward he became a constant field-preacher, 
whenever weather and the season of the year made it possible. 
Two days afterwards, on Sunday, April 29, he records: — "I 
preached in Moorfields to an exceeding great multitude. Being 
weakened by my morning's preaching, I refreshed myself in 
the afternoon by a little sleep, and at five went and preached 
at Kennington Common, about two miles from London, when 



BECOMES A FIELD-PREACHER. 39 

no less than thirty thousand people were supposed to be pre- 
sent." Henceforth, wherever there were large open spaces 
round London, wherever there were large bands of idle, god- 
less, Sabbath-breaking people gathered together, in Hackney 
Fields, Mary-le-bonne Fields, May Fair, Smithfield, Blackheath, 
Moorfields, and Kennington Common, there went Whitefield 
and lifted up his voice for Christ.* The gospel so proclaimed 
was-4istened to and greedily received by hundreds who never 
dreamed of going to a place of worship. The cause of pure 
religion was advanced, and souls were plucked from the hand 
of Satan, like brands from the burning. But it was going much 
too fast for the Church of those days. The clergy, with a few 
honourable exceptions, refused entirely to countenance this 
strange preacher. In the true spirit of the dog in the manger, 
they neither liked to go after the semi-heathen masses of popu- 
lation themselves, nor liked any one else to do the work for 
them. The consequence was, that the ministrations of White- 
field in the pulpits of the Church of England from this time 
almost entirely ceased. He loved the Church in which he had 
been ordained ; he gloried in her Articles ; he used her Prayer- 
book with pleasure. But the Church did not love him, and so 
lost the use of his services. The plain truth is, that the Churcb 
of England of that day was not ready for a man like Whitefield 
The Church was too much asleep to understand him, and was 
vexed at a man who would not keep still and let the devil alone. 
The facts of Whitefield's history from this period to the day 
of his death are almost entirely of one complexion. One year 
was just like another ; and to attempt to follow him would be 
only going repeatedly over the same ground. From 1739 to the 
year of his death, 1770, a period of thirty-one years, his life was 
one uniform employment. He was eminently a man of one thing. 



* The reader will remember that all this happened a hundred years ago, when London was 
comparatively a small place. Most of the open places where Whitefield preached are nou 
covered with buildings. Kennington Oval and Blackheath alone remain open at this day 



40 EXTENT OF HIS LABOURS. 

and always about his Master's business. From Sunday morn- 
ings to Saturday nights, from the ist of January to the 31st of 
December, excepting when laid aside by illness, he was almost 
incessantly preaching Christ, and going about the world en- 
treating men to repent and come to Christ and be saved. 
There was hardly a considerable town in England, Scotland, or 
Wales, that he did not visit as an evangelist. When churches 
were opened to him he gladly preached in churches : when 
only chapels could be obtained, he cheerfully preached in 
chapels. When churches and chapels alike were closed, or 
were too small to contain his hearers, he was ready and willing 
to preach in the open air. For thirty-one years he laboured in 
this way, always proclaiming the same glorious gospel, and 
always, as far as man's eye can judge, with immense effect. In 
one single Whitsuntide week, after preaching in Moorfields, he 
received one thousand letters from people under spiritual con- 
cern, and admitted to the Lord's table three hundred and fifty 
persons. In the thirty-four years of his ministry it is reckoned 
that he preached publicly eighteen thousand times. 

His journeyings were prodigious, when the roads and con- 
veyances of his time are considered. He was familiar with 
" perils in the wilderness and perils in the seas," if ever man 
was in modern times. He visited Scotland fourteen times, and 
was nowhere more acceptable or useful than he was in that 
Bible-loving country. He crossed the Atlantic seven times, 
backward and forward, in miserable slow sailing ships, and 
arrested the attention of thousands in Boston, New York, and 
Philadelphia. He went over to Ireland twice, and on one 
occasion was almost murdered by an ignorant Popish mob in 
Dublin. As to England and Wales, he traversed every county 
in them, from the Isle of Wight to Berwick-on-Tweed, and from 
the Land's End to the North Foreland. 

His regular ministerial work in London for the winter season, 
when field-preaching was necessarily suspended, was something 



HIS DEATH. 41 

prodigious. His weekly engagements at the Tabernacle in 
Tottenham Court Road, which was built for him when the 
pulpits of the Established Church were closed, comprised the 
following work : — Every Sunday morning he administered the 
Lord's Supper to several hundred communicants at half-past 
six. After this he read prayers, and preached both morning 
and afternoon. Then he preached again in the evening at 
half-past five, and concluded by addressing a large society of 
widows, married people, young men and spinsters, all sitting 
separately in the area of the Tabernacle, with exhortations suit- 
able to their respective stations. On Monday, Tuesday, Wed- 
nesday, and Thursday mornings, he preached regularly at six. 
On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday 
evenings, he delivered lectures. This, it will be observed, 
made thirteen sermons a week ! And all this time he was car- 
rying on a large correspondence with people in almost eveiy 
part of the world. 

That any human frame could so long endure the labours that 
Whitefield went through does indeed seem wonderful. That 
his life was not cut short by violence, to which he was frequently 
exposed, is no less wonderful. But he was immortal till his 
work was done. He died at last very suddenly at Newbury 
Port, in North America, on Sunday;, _Sej)tember the .29th, 1770, 
at the comparatively early age of fifty-six. He was once 
married to a widow named James, of Abergavenny, who died 
before him. If we may judge from the little mention made 
of his wife in his letters, the marriage does not seem to have 
contributed much to his happiness. He left no children, but 
he left a name far better than that of sons and daughters. Never 
perhaps was there a man of whom it could be so truly said that 
he spent and was spent for Christ than George Whitefield. 

The circumstances and particulars of this great evangelist's 
end are so deeply interesting, that I shall make no excuse for 
dwelling on them. It was an end in striking harmony with the 



42 INTERESTING CIRCUMSTANCES 

tenor of his life. As he had lived for more than thirty years, 
so he died, preaching to the very last. He literally almost died 
in harness. "Sudden death," he had often said, "is sudden 
glory. Whether right or not, I cannot help wishing that I may 
go off in the same manner. To me it would be worse than 
death to live to be nursed, and to see friends weeping about 
me." He had the desire of his heart granted. He was cut 
down in a single night by a spasmodic fit of asthma, almost 
before his friends knew that he was ill. 

On the morning ofJSaturday the 29th of September, the day 
before he died, Whitefield set out on horseback from Ports- 
mouth in New Hampshire, in order to fulfil an engagement to 
preach at Newbury Port on Sunday. On the way, unfortunately, 
he was earnestly importuned to preach at a place called Exeter, 
and though feeling very ill, he had not the heart to refuse. A 
friend remarked before he preached that he looked more uneasy 
than usual, and said to him, " Sir, you are more fit to go to bed 
than to preach." To this Whitefield replied: "True, sir;" 
and then turning aside, he clasped his hands together, and 
looking up, said : " Lord Jesus, I am weary in thy work, but 
not of thy work. If I have not yet finished my course, let me 
go and speak for thee once more in the fields, seal thy truth, 
and come home and die." He then went and preached to a 
very great multitude in the fields from the text 2 Cor. xiii. 5, 
for the space of nearly two hours. It was his last sermon, and 
a fitting conclusion to his whole career. 

An eye-witness has given the following striking account of 
this closing scene of Whitefield's life : — " He rose from his seat, 
and stood erect. His appearance alone was a powerful sermon. 
The thinness of his visage, the paleness of his countenance, the 
evident struggling of the heavenly spark in a decayed body for 
utterance, were all deeply interesting; the spirit was willing, 
but the flesh was dying. In this situation he remained several 
minutes, unable to speak. He then said : 'I will wait for the 



OF HIS DEA TH. 43 

gracious assistance of God, for he will, I am certain, assist me 
once more to speak in his name.' He then delivered perhaps 
one of his best sermons. The latter part contained the follow- 
ing passage : ' I go ; I go to a rest prepared : my sun has given 
light to many, but now it is about to set — no, to rise to the 
zenith of immortal glory. I have outlived many on earth, but 
they cannot outlive me in heaven. Many shall outlive me on 
earth and live when this body is no more, but there — oh, thought 
divine ! — I shall be in a world where time, age, sickness, and 
sorrow are unknown. My body fails, but my spirit expands. 
How willingly would I live for ever to preach Christ. But I 
die to be with him. How brief — comparatively brief — has been 
my life compared to the vast labours which I see before me 
yet to be accomplished. But if I leave now, while so few care 
about heavenly things, the God of peace will surely visit you." 

After the sermon was over, Whitefield dined with a friend, 
and then rode on to Newbury Port, though greatly fatigued. 
On arriving there he supped early, and retired to bed. Tradi- 
tion says, that as he went up-stairs, with a lighted candle in his 
hand, he could not resist the inclination to turn round at the 
head of the stair, and speak to the friends who were assembled 
to meet him. As he spoke the fire kindled within him, and 
before he could conclude, the candle which he held in his hand 
had actually burned down to the socket. He retired to his 
bedroom, to come out no more alive. A violent fit of spasmodic 
asthma seized him soon after he got into bed, and before six 
o'clock the next morning the great preacher was dead. If ever 
man was ready for his change, Whitefield was that man. When 
his time came, he had nothing to do but to die. Where he 
died there he was buried, in a vault beneath the pulpit of the 
church where he had engaged to preach. His sepulchre is 
shown to this very day \ and nothing makes the little town 
where he died so famous as the fact that it contains the bones 
of George Whitefield. 



44 GEORGE WHITEFIELD' S MISSION. 

Such are the leading facts in the life of the prince of English 
evangelists of a hundred years ago. His personal character, 
the real extent of his usefulness, and some account of his style of 
preaching, are subjects which I must reserve for another chapter. 



CHAPTER II. 

Estimate of good that Whitefield did — Testimonies to his direct Usefulness — Indirect good 
that he did — Peculiar character of his Preaching — Witnesses to his real power as a 
Preacher — Analysis of his seventy-five published Sermons — Simplicity, Directness, 
Power of Description, Earnestness, Pathos, Action, Voice, and Fluency, his leading 
Excellences — Inner Life, Humility, Love to Christ, Laboriousness, Self-denial, Disin- 
terestedness, Cheerfulness, Catholicity — Specimen of his Preaching. 

George Whitefield, in my judgment, was so entirely chief 
and first among the English Reformers of the last century, that 
I make no apology for offering some further information about 
him. The real amount of good he did, the peculiar character 
of his preaching, the private character of the man, are all points 
that deserve consideration. They are points, I may add, about 
which there is a vast amount of misconception. 

This misconception perhaps is unavoidable, and ought not 
to surprise us. The materials for forming a correct opinion 
about such a man as Whitefield are necessarily very scanty. 
He wrote no book for the million, of world-wide fame, like 
Bunyan's " Pilgrim's Progress." He headed no crusade against 
an apostate Church, with a nation at his back, and princes on 
his side, like Martin Luther. He founded no religious deno- 
mination, which pinned its faith on his writings and carefully 
embalmed his best acts and words, like John Wesley. There 
are Lutherans and Wesleyans in the present day, but there are 
no Whitefieldites. No ! The great evangelist of last century 
was a simple, guileless man, who lived for one thing only, and 
that was to preach Christ. .If he did that, he cared for nothing 
else. The records of such a man are large and full in heaven, 
I have no doubt. But they are few and scanty upon earth. 



HIS DIRECT USEFULNESS. 45 

We must not forget, beside this, that the many in every age 
see nothing in a man like Whitefield but fanaticism and enthu- 
siasm. They abhor everything like " zeal " in religion. They 
dislike every one who turns the world upside down, and de- 
parts from old traditional ways, and will not let the devil alone. 
Such persons, no doubt, would tell us that the ministry of 
Whitefield only produced temporary excitement, that his preach- 
ing was common-place rant, and that his character had nothing 
about it to be specially admired. It may be feared that 
eighteen hundred years ago they would have said much the 
same of St. Paul. 

The question, " What good did Whitefield do 1 " is one which 
I answer without the least hesitation. I believe that the direct 
good which he did to immortal souls was enormous. I will 
go further, — I believe it is incalculable. Credible witnesses 
in England, Scotland, and America, have placed on record their 
conviction that he was the means of converting thousands of 
people. Many, wherever he preached, were not merely pleased, 
excited, and arrested, but positively turned from sin, and made 
thorough servants of God. " Numbering the people," I do not 
forget, is at all times an objectionable practice. God alone 
can read hearts and discern the wheat from the tares. Many, 
no doubt, in days of religious excitement, are set down as con- 
verted who are not converted at all. But I wish my readers to 
understand that my high estimate of Whitefield's usefulness is 
based on a solid foundation. I ask them to mark well what 
Whitefield's cotemporaries thought of the value of his labours. 

Franklin, the well-known American philosopher, was a cold- 
blooded, calculating man, a Quaker by profession, and not 
likely to form too high an estimate of any minister's work. 
Yet even he confessed that " it was wonderful to see the change 
soon made by his preaching in the manners of the inhabitants 
of Philadelphia. From being thoughtless or indifferent about 
religion, it seemed as if all the world were growing religious." 



46 TESTIMONIES TO HIS WORTH. 

Franklin himself, it may be remarked, was the leading printer 
of religious works at Philadelphia; and his readiness to print 
Whitefield's sermons and journals shows his judgment of the 
hold that he had on the American mind. 

Maclaurin, Willison, and Macculloch, were Scotch ministers 
whose names are well known north of the Tweed, and the two 
former of whom deservedly rank high as theological writers. 
All these have repeatedly testified that Whitefield was made an 
instrument of doing immense good in Scotland. Willison in 
particular says, " that God honoured him with surprising success 
among sinners of all ranks and persuasions." 

Old Henry Venn, of Huddersfield and Yelling, was a man 
of strong good sense, as well as of great grace. His opinion 
was, that "if the greatness, extent, success, and disinterested- 
ness of a man's labours can give him distinction among the 
children of Christ, then we are warranted to affirm that scarce 
any one has equalled Mr. Whitefield." Again he says : " He 
was abundantly successful in his vast labours. The seals of his 
ministry, from first to last, I am persuaded, were more than 
could be credited could the number be fixed. This is certain, 
his amazing popularity was only from his usefulness ; for he no 
sooner opened his mouth as a preacher, than God commanded 
an extraordinary blessing upon his word." 

John Newton was a shrewd man, as well as an eminent 
minister of the gospel. His testimony is : " That which finished 
Mr. Whitefield's character as a shining light, and is now his 
crown of rejoicing, was the singular success which the Lord was 
pleased to give him in winning souls. It seemed as if he never 
preached in vain. Perhaps there is hardly a place in all the 
extensive compass of his labours where some may not yet 
be found who thankfully acknowledge him as their spiritual 
father." 

John Wesley did not agree with Whitefield on several theo- 
logical points of no small importance. But when he preached 



HIS INDIRECT USEFUINESS. 47 

his funeral sermon, he said : " Have we read or heard of any 
person who called so many thousands, so many myriads of 
sinners to repentance 1 Above all, have we read or heard of 
any one who has been the blessed instrument of bringing so 
many sinners from darkness to light, and from the power of 
Satan unto God ? " 

Valuable as these testimonies undoubtedly are, there is one 
point which they leave totally untouched. That point is the 
quantity of indirect good that Whitefield did. Great as the 
direct effects of his labours were, I believe firmly that the in- 
direct effects were even greater. His ministry was made 
a blessing to thousands who never perhaps either saw or 
heard him. 

He was among the first in the eighteenth century who re- 
vived attention to the old truths which produced the Protestant 
Reformation. His constant assertion of the doctrines taught 
by the Reformers, his repeated reference to the Articles and 
Homilies, and the divinity of the best English theologians, 
obliged many to think, and roused them to examine their own 
principles. If the whole truth was known, I believe it would 
prove that the rise and progress of the Evangelical body in the 
Church of England received a mighty impulse from George 
Whitefield. 

But this is not the only indirect good that Whitefield did in 
his day. He was among the first to show the right way to 
meet the attacks of infidels and sceptics on Christianity. He 
saw clearly that the most powerful weapon against such men 
is not cold, metaphysical reasoning and dry critical disquisition, 
but preaching the whole gospel — living the whole gospel — and 
spreading the whole gospel. It was not the writings of Leland, 
and the younger Sherlock, and Waterland, and Leslie, that 
rolled back the flood of infidelity one half so much as the 
preaching of Whitefield and his companions. They were the 
men who were the true champions of Christianity. Infidels are 



48 CHARACTER OF HIS PREACHING. 

seldom shaken by mere abstract reasoning. The surest argu- 
ments against them are gospel truth and gospel life. 

Above all, he was the very first Englishman who seems to 
have thoroughly understood what Dr. Chalmers aptly called 
the aggressive system. He was the first to see that Christ's 
ministers must do the work of fishermen. They must not wait 
for souls to come to them, but must go after souls, and " compel 
them to come in." He did not sit tamely by his fireside, like 
a cat in a rainy day, mourning over the wickedness of the land. 
He went forth to beard the devil in his high places. He 
attacked sin and wickedness face to face, and gave them no 
peace. He dived into holes and corners after sinners. He 
hunted out ignorance and vice wherever they could be found. 
In short, he set on foot a system of action which, up to his 
time, had been comparatively unknown in this country, but a 
system which, once commenced, has never ceased to be em- 
ployed down to the present day. City missions, town missions, 
district visiting societies, open-air preachings, home missions, 
special services, theatre preachings, are all evidences that the 
value of the " aggressive system " is now thoroughly recognized 
by all the Churches. We understand better how to go to work 
now than we did a hundred years ago. But let us never forget 
that the first man to commence operations of this kind was 
George Whitefield, and let us give him the credit he deserves. 

The peculiar character of Whitefield \r preaching is the subject 
which next demands some consideration. Men naturally wish 
to know what was the secret of his unparalleled success. The 
subject is one surrounded with considerable difficulty, and it is 
no easy matter to form a correct judgment about it. The 
common idea of many people, that he was a mere common- 
place ranting Methodist, remarkable for nothing but great 
fluency, strong doctrine, and a loud voice, will not bear a 
moment's investigation. Dr. Johnson was foolish enough to 
say, that " he vociferated and made an impression, but never 



POPULARITY OF HIS PREACHING. 49 

drew as much attention as a mountebank does ; and that he 
did not draw attention by doing better than others, but by 
doing what was strange." But Johnson was anything but in- 
fallible when he began to talk about ministers and religion. 
Such a theory will not hold water. It is contradictory to un- 
deniable facts. 

It is a fact that no preacher in England has ever succeeded 
in arresting the attention of such crowds as Whitefield con- 
stantly addressed around London. No preacher has ever been 
so universally popular in every country that he visited, in Eng- 
land, Scotland, and America. No preacher has ever retained his 
hold on his hearers so entirely as he did for thirty-four years. 
His popularity never waned. It was as great at the end of his 
day as it was at the beginning. Wherever he preached, men 
would leave their workshops and employments to gather round 
him, and hear like those who heard for eternity. This of itself 
is a great fact. To command the ear of " the masses " for a 
quarter of a century, and to be preaching incessantly the whole 
time, is an evidence of no common power. 

It is another fact that Whitefield's preaching produced a 
powerful effect on people in every rank of life. He won the 
admiration of high as well as low, of rich as well as poor, of 
learned as well as unlearned. If his preaching had been 
popular with none but the uneducated and the poor, we might 
have thought it possible that there was little in it but declama- 
tion and noise. But, so far from this being the case, he seems 
to have been acceptable to numbers of the nobility and gentry. 
The Marquis of Lothian, the Earl of Leven, the Earl of Buchan, 
Lord Rae, Lord Dartmouth, Lord James A. Gordon, might be 
named among his warmest admirers, beside Lady Huntingdon 
and a host of ladies. 

It is a fact that eminent critics and literary men, like Lord 
Bolingbroke and Lord Chesterfield, were frequently his de- 
lighted hearers. Even the cold artificial Chesterfield was 

(195) 4 



50 HIS PUBLISHED SERMONS. 

known to warm under Whitefield's eloquence. Bolingbroke, 
said, " He is the most extraordinary man in our times. He has 
the most commanding eloquence I ever heard in any person." 
Franklin the philosopher spoke in no measured terms of his 
preaching powers. Hume the historian declared that it was 
worth going twenty miles to hear him. 

Now, facts like these can never be explained away. They 
completely upset the theory that Whitefield's preaching was 
nothing but noise and rant. Bolingbroke, Chesterfield, Hume, 
and Franklin, were not men to be easily deceived. They were 
no mean judges of eloquence. They were probably among the 
best qualified critics of their day. Their unbought and un- 
biassed opinions appear to me to supply unanswerable proof 
that there must have been something very extraordinary about 
Whitefield's preaching. But still, after all, the question remains 
to be answered, What was the secret of Whitefield's unrivalled 
popularity and effectiveness % And I frankly admit that, with 
the scanty materials we possess for forming our judgment, the 
question is a very hard one to answer. - 

The man who turns to the seventy-five sermons published 
under Whitefield's name will probably be much disappointed. 
He will see in them no commanding intellect or grasp of mind. 
He will find in them no deep philosophy, and no very striking 
thoughts. It is only fair, however, to say, that by far the greater 
part of these sermons were taken down in shorthand by 
reporters, and published without correction. These worthy 
men appear to have done their work very indifferently, and 
were evidently ignorant alike of stopping and paragraphing, of 
grammar and of gospel. The consequence is, that many pas- 
sages in these seventy-five sermons are what Bishop Latimer 
would have called a " mingle-mangle," and what we should call 
in this day " a complete mess." No wonder that poor White- 
field says, in one of his last letters, dated September 26, 1769, 
" I wish you had advertised against the publication of my last 



DISTINCTIVE CHARACTERISTICS. 51 

sermon. It is not verbatim as I delivered it. It some places 
it makes me speak false concord, and even nonsense. In 
others the sense and connection are destroyed by injudicious, 
disjointed paragraphs, and the whole is entirely unfit for the 
public review." 

I venture, however, to say boldly that, with all their faults, 
Whitefield's printed sermons will well repay a candid perusal. 
The reader must recollect that they were not carefully prepared 
for the press, like the sermons of Melville or Bradley, but 
wretchedly reported, paragraphed, and stopped, and he must 
read with this continually before his mind. Moreover, he must 
remember that English composition for speaking to hearers, 
and English composition for private reading, are almost like 
two different languages, so that sermons which "preach" well 
" read " badly. Let him, I say, remember these two things, 
and judge accordingly, and I am much mistaken if he does not 
find much to admire in many of Whitefield's sermons. For my 
own part, I must plainly say that I think they are greatly under- 
rated. 

Let me now point out what appear to have been the distinc- 
tive characteristics of Whitefield's preaching. 

For one thing, Whitefield preached a singularly pure gospel. 
Few men, perhaps, ever gave their hearers so much wheat and 
so little chaff. He did not get up to talk about his party, his 
cause, his interest or his office. He was perpetually telling you 
about your sins, your heart, Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost, the 
absolute need of repentance, faith, and holiness, in the way that 
the Bible presents these mighty subjects. " Oh, the righteous- 
ness of Jesus Christ!" he would often say; " I must be excused 
if I mention it in almost all my sermons." Preaching of this 
kind is the preaching that God delights to honour. It must be 
pre-eminently a manifestation of truth. 

For another thing, Whitefield's preaching was singularly lucid 
and simple. His hearers, whatever they might think of his 



52 HIS POWER OF DESCRIPTION. 

doctrine, could never fail to understand what he meant. His 
style of speaking was easy, plain, and conversational. He seemed 
to abhor long and involved sentences. He always saw his mark, 
and went directly at it. He seldom troubled his hearers with 
abstruse argument and intricate reasoning. Simple Bible state- 
ments, apt illustrations, and pertinent anecdotes, were the more 
common weapons that he used. The consequence was that his 
hearers always understood him. He never shot above their 
heads. Here again is one grand element of a preacher's suc- 
cess. He must labour by all means to be understood. It was 
a wise saying of Archbishop Usher, " To make easy things seem 
hard is every man's work ; but to make hard things easy is the 
work of a great preacher." 

For another thing, Whitefield was a singularly bold and direct 
preacher. He never used that indefinite expression "we," 
which seems so peculiar to English pulpit oratory, and which 
only leaves a hearer's mind in a state of misty confusion. He 
met men face to face, like one who had a message from God 
to them, " I have come here to speak to you about your soul." 
The result was that many of his hearers used often to think that 
his sermons were specially meant for themselves. He was not 
content, as many, with sticking on a meagre tail-piece of appli- 
cation at the end of a long discourse. On the contrary, a con- 
stant vein of application ran through all his sermons. " This is 
for you, and this is for you." His hearers were never let alone. 

Another striking feature in Whitefield's preaching was his 
singular power of description. The Arabians have a proverb 
which says, " He is the best orator who can turn men's ears 
into eyes." Whitefield seems to have had a peculiar faculty of 
doing this. He dramatized his subject so thoroughly that it 
seemed to move and walk before your eyes. He used to draw 
such vivid pictures of the things he was handling, that his 
hearers could believe they actually saw and heard them. " On 
one occasion," says one of his biographers, " Lord Chesterfield 



HIS EARNESTNESS. 53 

was among his hearers. The great preacher, in describing the 
miserable condition of an unconverted sinner, illustrated the 
subject by describing a blind beggar. The night was dark, and 
the road dangerous. The poor mendicant was deserted by his 
dog near the edge of a precipice, and had nothing to aid him in 
groping his way but his staff. Whitefield so warmed with his 
subject, and enforced it with such graphic power, that the whole 
auditory was kept in breathless silence, as if it saw the move- 
ments of the poor old man ; and at length, when the beggar 
was about to take the fatal step which would have hurled him 
down the precipice to certain destruction, Lord Chesterfield 
actually made a rush forward to save him, exclaiming aloud, 
' He is gone ! he is gone ! ' The noble lord had been so 
entirely carried away by the preacher, that he forgot the whole 
was a picture." 

Another leading characteristic of Whitefield's preaching was 
his tremendous earnestness. One poor uneducated man said of 
him, that "he preached like a lion." He succeeded in showing 
people that he at least believed all he was saying, and that his 
heart, and soul, and mind, and strength, were bent on making 
them believe it too. His sermons were not like the morning 
and evening gun at Portsmouth, a kind of formal discharge, 
fired off as a matter of course, that disturbs nobody. They were 
all life and fire. There was no getting away from them. Sleep 
was next to impossible. You must listen whether you liked it 
or- not. There was a holy violence about him which firmly 
took your attention by storm. You were fairly carried off your 
legs by his energy before you had time to consider what you 
would do. This, we may be sure, was one secret of his success. 
We must convince men that we are in earnest ourselves, if we 
want to be believed. The difference between one preacher 
and another, is often not so much in the things said, as in the 
manner in which they are said. 

It is recorded by one of his biographers that an American 



54 HIS PATHOS AND FEELING. 

gentleman once went to hear him, for the first time, in conse- 
quence of the report he heard of his preaching powers. The 
day was rainy, the congregation comparatively thin, and the 
beginning of the sermon rather heavy. Our American friend 
began to say to himself, " This man is no great wonder after 
all." He looked round, and saw the congregation as little 
interested as himself. One old man, in front of the pulpit, had 
fallen asleep. But all at once Whitefield stopped short. His 
countenance changed. And then he suddenly broke forth in 
an altered tone : " If I had come to speak to you in my own 
name, you might well rest your elbows on your knees, and your 
heads on your hands, and sleep ; and once in a while look up, 
and say, What is this babbler talking of? But I have not 
come to you in my own name. No ! I have come to you in 
the name of the Lord of Hosts " (here he brought down his 
hand and foot with a force that made the building ring), " and 
I must and will be heard." The congregation started. The 
old man woke up at once. " Ay, ay ! " cried Whitefield, fixing 
his eyes on him, " I have waked you up, have I % I meant to 
do it. I am not come here to preach to stocks and stones : I 
have come to you in the name of the Lord God of Hosts, and 
I must, and will, have an audience." The hearers were stripped 
of their apathy at once. Every word of the sermon after this 
was heard with deep attention, and the American gentleman 
never forgot it. 

One more feature in Whitefield's preaching deserves special 
notice ; and that is, the immense amowit of pathos and feeling 
which it always contained. It was no uncommon thing with 
him to weep profusely in the pulpit. Cornelius Winter, who 
often accompanied him in his latter journeys, went so far as to 
say that he hardly ever knew him get through a sermon without 
some tears. There seems to have been nothing of affectation 
in this. He felt intensely for the souls before him, and his 
feelings found an outlet in tears. Of all the ingredients of his 



WHITE FIELD AS AN ORATOR. 55 

success in preaching, none, I suspect, were so powerful as this. 
It awakened affections and touched secret springs in men, 
which no amount of reasoning and demonstration could have 
moved. It smoothed down the prejudices which many had 
conceived against him. They could not hate the man who 
wept so much over their souls. " I came to hear you," said 
one to him, " with my pocket full of stones, intending to break 
your head ; but your sermon got the better of me, and broke 
my heart." Once become satisfied that a man loves you, and 
you will listen gladly to anything he has to say. 

I will now ask the reader to add to this analysis of White- 
field's preaching, that even by nature he possessed several of 
the rarest gifts which fit a man to be an orator. His action was 
perfect — so perfect that even Garrick, the famous actor, gave it 
unqualified praise. His voice was as wonderful as his action — 
so powerful that he could make thirty thousand people hear 
him at once, and yet so musical and well toned that some said 
he could raise tears by his pronunciation of the word " Meso- 
potamia." His manner in the pulpit was so curiously graceful 
and fascinating that it was said that no one could hear him for 
five minutes without forgetting that he squinted. His fluency 
and command of appropriate language were of the highest 
order, prompting him always to use the right word and to put 
it in the right place. Add, I repeat, these gifts to the things 
already mentioned, and then consider whether there is not 
sufficient in our hands to account for his power and popularity 
as a preacher. 

For my own part, I have no hesitation in saying that I believe 
no English preacher has ever possessed such a combination of 
excellent qualifications as Whitefield. Some, no doubt, have 
surpassed him in some of his gifts ; others, perhaps, have 
equalled him in others. But for a well-balanced combination 
of some of the finest gifts that a preacher can possess, united 
with an unrivalled voice, manner, delivery, action, and com- 



56 HIS PRIVATE CHARACTER. 

mand of words, Whitefield, I repeat my opinion, stands alone. 
No Englishman, I believe, dead or alive, has ever equalled him. 
And I suspect we shall always find that, just in proportion as 
preachers have approached that curious combination of rare 
gifts which Whitefield possessed, just in that very proportion 
have they attained what Clarendon defines true eloquence to 
be — " a strange power of making themselves believed." 

The inner life and personal character of this great spiritual 
hero of the last century are a branch of my subject on which I 
shall not dwell at any length. In fact, there is no necessity for 
my doing so. He was a singularly transparent man. There 
was nothing about him requiring apology or explanation. His 
faults and good qualities were both clear and plain as noon-day. 
I shall therefore content myself with simply pointing out the 
prominent features of his character, so far as they can be 
gathered from his letters and the accounts of his contempo- 
raries, and then bring my sketch of him to a conclusion. 

He was a man of deep and unfeigned humility. No one can 
read the fourteen hundred letters of his, published by Dr. 
Gillies, without observing this. Again and again, in the very 
zenith of his popularity, we find him speaking of himself and 
his works in the lowliest terms. " God be merciful to me a 
sinner," he writes on September n, 1753, "and give me, for 
his infinite mercy's sake, an humble, thankful, and resigned 
heart. Truly I am viler than the vilest, and stand amazed at 
his employing such a wretch as I am." " Let none of my 
friends," he writes on December 27, 1753, "cry to such a 
sluggish, lukewarm, unprofitable worm, Spare thyself. Ratncr 
spur me on, I pray you, with an Awake, thou sleeper, and 
begin to do something for thy God." Language like this, no 
doubt, seems foolishness and affectation to the world ; but the 
well-instructed Bible reader will see in it the heartfelt experience 
of all the brightest saints. It is the language of men like 
Baxter, and Brainerd, and M'Cheyne. It is the same mind 



HIS DILIGENCE AND SELF-DENIAL. 57 

that was in the inspired Apostle Paul. Those that have most 
light and grace are always the humblest men. 

He was a man of burning love to our Lord Jesus Christ. 
That name which is " above every name" stands out inces- 
santly in all his correspondence. Like fragrant ointment, it 
gives a savour to all his communications. He seems never 
weary of saying something about Jesus. " My Master," as 
George Herbert said, is never long out of his mind. His love, 
his atonement, his precious blood, his righteousness, his readi- 
ness to receive sinners, his patience and tender dealing with 
saints, are themes which appear ever fresh before his eyes. In 
this respect, at least, there is a curious likeness between him 
and that glorious Scotch divine, Samuel Rutherford. 

He was a man of unwearied diligence and laboriousness about 
his Master's business. It would be difficult, perhaps, to name 
any one in the annals of the Churches who worked so hard for 
Christ, and so thoroughly spent himself in his service. Henry 
Venn, in a funeral sermon for him, preached at Bath, bore the 
following testimony : — " What a sign and wonder was this man 
of God in the greatness of his labours ! One cannot but stand 
amazed that his mortal frame could, for the space of near thirty 
years, without interruption, sustain the weight of them ; for 
what so trying to the human frame, in youth especially, as long- 
continued, frequent, and violent straining of the lungs 1 Who 
that knows their structure would think it possible that a person 
little above the age of manhood could speak in a single week, 
and that for years — in general forty hours, and in very many 
weeks sixty — and that to thousands ; and after this labour, 
instead of taking any rest, could be offering up prayers and 
intercessions, with hymns and spiritual songs, as his manner 
was, in every house to which he was invited ? The truth is, 
that in point of labour this extraordinary servant of God did as 
much in a few weeks as most of those who exert themselves are 
able to do in the space of a year." 



58 CHEERFULNESS OF HIS NATURE. 

He was to the end a man of eminent self-denial. His style of 
living was most simple. He was remarkable to a proverb for 
moderation in eating and drinking. All through life he was an 
early riser. His usual hour for getting up was four o'clock, 
both in summer and winter; and equally punctual was he in 
retiring about ten at night. A man of prayerful habits, he fre- 
quently spent whole nights in reading and devotion. Cornelius 
Winter, who often slept in the same room, says that he would 
sometimes rise during the night for this purpose. He cared 
little for money, except as a help to the cause of Christ, and 
refused it, when pressed upon him for his own use, once to the 
amount of ^7600. He amassed no fortune, and founded no 
wealthy family. The little money he left behind him at his 
death arose entirely from the legacies of friends. The Pope's 
coarse saying about Luther, " This German beast does not love 
g )ld," might have been equally applied to Whitefield. 

He was a man of remarkable disinterestedness and singleness of 
eye. He seemed to live only for two objects — the glory of God 
and the salvation of souls. Of secondary and covert objects 
he knew nothing at all. He raised no party of followers who 
took his name. He established no denominational system, of 
which his own writings should be cardinal elements. A favour- 
ite expression of his is most characteristic of the man : " Let the 
name of George Whitefield perish, so long as Christ is exalted." 

He was a man of a singularly happy and cheerfid spirit. No 
one who saw him could ever doubt that he enjoyed his religion. 
Tried as he was in many ways throughout his ministry — slan- 
dered by some, despised by others, misrepresented by false 
brethren, opposed everywhere by the ignorant clergy of his 
time, worried by incessant controversy — his elasticity never 
failed him. He was eminently a rejoicing Christian, whose 
very demeanour recommended his Master's service. A vene- 
rable lady of New York, after his death, when speaking of the 
influences by which the Spirit won her heart to God, used these 



HIS CHARITY AND CATHOLICITY. 59 

remarkable words, — " Mr. Whitefield was so cheerful that it 
tempted me to become a Christian." 

Last, but not least, he was a man of extraordinary charity, 
catholicity, and liberality in his religion. He knew nothing of 
that narrow-minded feeling which makes some men fancy that 
everything must be barren outside their own camps, and that 
their own party has got a complete monopoly of truth and 
heaven. He loved all who loved the Lord Jesus Christ in sin- 
cerity. He measured all by the measure which the angels 
use, — " Did they profess repentance towards God, faith towards 
our Lord Jesus Christ, and holiness of conversation V If they 
did, they were as his brethren. His soul was with such men, 
by whatever name they were called. Minor differences were 
wood, hay, and stubble to him. The marks of the Lord 
Jesus were the only marks he cared for. This catholicity is 
the more remarkable when the spirit of the times he lived in is 
considered. Even the Erskines, in Scotland, wanted him to 
preach for no other denomination but their own — viz., the 
Secession Church. He asked them, " Why only for them V — 
and received the notable answer that " they were the Lord's 
people." This was more than Whitefield could stand. He 
asked " if there were no other Lord's people but themselves ;" 
he told them, " if all others were the devil's people, they cer- 
tainly had more need to be preached to ;" and he wound up by 
informing them, that " if the Pope himself would lend him his 
pulpit, he would gladly proclaim the righteousness of Christ in 
it." To this catholicity of spirit he adhered all his days. If 
other Christians misrepresented him, he forgave them ; and it 
they refused to work with him, he still loved them. Nothing 
could be a more weighty testimony against narrow-mindedness 
than his request, made shortly before his death, that, when he 
did die, John Wesley should be asked to preach his funeral 
sermon. Wesley and he had long ceased to agree about Cal- 
vinistic points ; but Whitefield, to the very last, was determined 



60 NO T WITHO UT FA UL TS. 

to forget minor differences, and to regard Wesley as Calvin did 
Luther, "only as a good servant of Jesus Christ." On another 
occasion a censorious professor of religion asked him " whether 
he thought they would see John Wesley in heaven?" "No, 
sir," was the striking answer ; " I fear not. He will be so near 
the throne, and we shall be at such a distance, that we shall 
hardly get a sight of him." 

Far be it from me to say that the subject of this chapter was 
a man without faults. Like all God's saints, he was an imper- 
fect creature. He sometimes erred in judgment. He often 
drew rash conclusions about Providence, and mistook his own 
inclination for God's leadings. He was frequently hasty both 
with his tongue and his pen. He had no business to say that 
" Archbishop Tillotson knew no more of the gospel than Ma- 
homet." He was wrong to set down some people as the Lord's 
enemies, and others as the Lord's friends so precipitately and 
positively as he sometimes did. He was to blame for denounc- 
ing many of the clergy as "letter-learned Pharisees," because 
they could not receive the doctrine of the new birth. But still, 
after all this has been said, there can be no doubt that in the 
main he was an eminently holy, self-denying, and consistent 
man. " The faults of his character," says an American writer, 
" were like spots on the sun — detected without much difficulty 
by any cool and careful observer who takes pains to look for 
them, but to all practical purposes lost in one general and genial 
effulgence." Well indeed would it be for the Churches of our 
day, if God was to give them more ministers like the great 
evangelist of England a hundred years ago ! 

It only remains to say that those who wish to know more 
about Whitefield would do well to peruse the seven volumes of 
his letters and other publications, which Dr. Gillies edited in 
J 770. I am much mistaken if they are not agreeably surprised 
at their contents. To me it is matter of astonishment that, 
amidst the many reprints of the nineteenth century, no pub- 



EXTRA CTS FROM SERMON. 6 1 

lisher has yet attempted a complete reprint of the works of 
George Whitefield. 

A short extract from the conclusion of a sermon preached by 
Whitefield on Kennington Common, maybe interesting to some 
readers, and may serve to give them some faint idea of the 
great preacher's style. It was a sermon on the text, "What 
think ye of Christ?" (Matt. xxii. 42.) 

" O my brethren, my heart is enlarged towards you. I trust 
I feel something of that hidden but powerful presence of Christ, 
whilst I am preaching to you. Indeed it is sweet — it is ex- 
ceedingly comfortable. All the harm I wish you who without 
cause are my enemies, is that you felt the like. Believe me, 
though it would be hell to my soul to return to a natural state 
again, yet I would willingly change states with you for a little 
while, that you might know what it is to have Christ dwelling 
in your hearts by faith. Do not turn your backs. Do not let 
the devil hurry you away. Be not afraid of convictions. Do 
not think worse of the doctrine because preached without the 
church walls. Our Lord, in the days of his flesh, preached on 
a mount, in a ship, and a field ; and I am persuaded many have 
felt his gracious presence here. Indeed, we speak what we 
know. Do not therefore reject the kingdom of God against 
yourselves. Be so wise as to receive our witness. 

" I cannot, I will not let you go. Stay a little, and let us 
reason together. However lightly you may esteem your souls, 
I know our Lord has set an unspeakable value on them. He 
thought them worthy of his most precious blood. I beseech 
you, therefore, O sinners, be ye reconciled to God. I hope you 
do not fear being accepted in the Beloved. Behold, he calleth 
you. Behold, he prevents, and follows you with his mercy, 
and hath sent forth his servants into the highways and hedges 
to compel you to come in. 

" Remember, then, that at such an hour of such a day, in 
such a year, in this place, you were all told what you ought to 



62 SPECIMEN OF HIS PREACHING. 

think concerning Jesus Christ If you now perish, it will not be 
from lack of knowledge. I am free from the blood of you all. 
You cannot say I have been preaching damnation to you. You 
cannot say I have, like legal preachers, been requiring you 
to make bricks without straw. I have not bidden you to make 
yourselves saints and then come to God. I have offered you 
salvation on as cheap terms as you can desire. I have offered 
you Christ's whole wisdom, Christ's whole righteousness, Christ's 
whole sanctification and eternal redemption, if you will but 
believe on him. If you say you cannot believe, you say right ; 
for faith, as well as every other blessing, is the gift of God. But 
then wait upon God, and who knows but he may have mercy 
on thee. 

"Why do we not entertain more loving thoughts of Christ] 
Do you think he will have mercy on others and not on you 1 
Are you not sinners'? Did not Jesus Christ come into the 
world to save sinners 1 

" If you say you are the chief of sinners, I answer that will be 
no hindrance to your salvation. Indeed it will not, if you lay 
hold on Christ by faith. Read the Evangelists, and see how 
kindly he behaved to his disciples, who had fled from and 
denied him. ' Go, tell my brethren} says he. He did not say, 
' Go, tell those traitors,' but, ' Go, tell my brethren and Peter.' 
It is as though he had said, ' Go, tell my brethren in general, 
and Peter in particular, that I am risen. Oh, comfort his poor 
drooping heart. Tell him I am reconciled to him. Bid him 
weep no more so bitterly. For though with oaths and curses 
he thrice denied me, yet I have died for his sins : I have risen 
again for his justification : I freely forgive him all." Thus slow 
to anger and of great kindness, was our all-merciful High Priest. 
And do you think he has changed his nature and forgets poor 
sinners, now he is exalted to the right hand of God % No ; he 
is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever ; and sitteth there 
only to make intercession for us. 



SPECIMEN OF HIS PREACHING. 63 

" Come, then, ye harlots ; come, ye publicans • come, ye 
most abandoned sinners, come and believe on Jesus Christ. 
Though the whole world despise you and cast you out, yet he 
will not disdain to take you up. Oh amazing, oh infinitely con- 
descending love ! even you he will not be ashamed to call his 
brethren. How will you escape if you neglect such a glorious 
offer of salvation 1 What would the damned spirits now in the 
prison of hell give if Christ was so freely offered to them 1 And 
why are we not lifting up our eyes in torments 1 Does any one 
out of this great multitude dare say he does not deserve damna- 
tion 1 Why are we left, and others taken away by death ? What 
is this but an instance of God's free grace, and a sign of his 
good-will toward us 1 Let God's goodness lead us to repentance. 
Oh, let there be joy in heaven over some of you repenting ! " 



IV. 




CHAPTER I. 

John Wesley — Reason why better known than many of his Contemporaries — Birth-place 
Sketch of his Father and Mother— Educated at Charter-House and Oxford — Early 
Religious History — Ordained, 1725 — Lives at Oxford eight Years — Joins the Methodist 
Club — Sails for Georgia, 1736 — Returns to England, 1738 — Commences Field-preach- 
ing — Continues Working for fifty-three Years — Dies in 1791 — Singleness of Eye, Dili- 
gence, and Versatility of Mind — Arminianism. 

|]HE second in the list of English Reformers of the last 
century, whose history I propose to consider, is a man 
of world-wide reputation — the famous John Wesley. 
The name of this great evangelist is perhaps better known 
than that of any of his fellow-labourers a hundred years ago. 
This, however, is easily accounted for. He lived to the ripe 
old age of eighty-eight. For sixty-five years he was continually 
before the eyes of the public, and doing his Master's work in 
every part of England. He founded a new religious denomina- 
tion, remarkable to this very day for its numbers, laboriousness, 
and success, and justly proud of its great founder. His life has 
been repeatedly written by his friends and followers, his works 
constantly reprinted, his precepts and maxims reverentially 
treasured up and embalmed, like Joseph's bones. In fact, if 
ever a good Protestant has been practically canonized, it has 
been John Wesley ! It would be strange indeed if his name 
was not well known. 



JOHN WESLEY'S BIRTH. 6$ 

Of such a man as this I cannot pretend to give more than a 
brief account in the short space of a few pages. The leading 
facts of his long and well-spent life, and the leading features of 
his peculiar character, are all that I can possibly compress into 
the limits of this memoir. Those who want more must look 
elsewhere.* 

John Wesley was born on the 17th of June 1703, at Epworth, 
in North Lincolnshire, of which parish his father was rector. 
He was the ninth of a family of at least thirteen children, com- 
prising three sons and ten daughters. Of the daughters, those 
who grew up made singularly foolish and unhappy marriages. 
Of the sons, the eldest, Samuel, was for some years usher of 
Westminster School, and an intimate friend of the famous Bishop 
Atterbury, and finally died head-master of Tiverton School. 
The second, John, was founder of the Methodist communion ; 
and the third, Charles, was almost throughout life John's com- 
panion and fellow-labourer. 

John Wesley's father was a man of considerable learning and 
great activity of mind. As a writer, he was always bringing out 
something either in prose or in verse, but nothing, unhappily 
for his pocket, which was ever acceptable to the reading public, 
or is much cared for in the present day. As a politician, he 
was a zealous supporter of the Revolution which brought into 
England the House of Orange ; and it was on this account that 
Queen Mary presented him to the Crown living of Epworth. 
As a clergyman, he seems to have been a diligent pastor and 
preacher, of the theological school of Archbishop Tillotson. 
As a manager of his worldly affairs, he appears to have been 
most unsuccessful. Though rector of a living now valued at 
^"iooo a-year, he was always in pecuniary difficulties, was once 

* The principal lives of Wesley by Methodist hands are those of Whitehead, Moore, 
and Watson. Sonthey's well-known life of Wesley is not a fair book, and the unfavour- 
able animus of the writer throughout is painfully manifest. The best, most impartial, and 
most complete account of Wesley is one published by Seeley in 1856, by an anonymous 
writer. 

U»5) 5 



66 JOHN WESLEY'S PARENTS. 

in prison for debt, and finally left his widow and children almost 
destitute. When I add to this that he was not on good terms 
with his parishioners, and, poor as he was, insisted on going up 
to London every year to attend the very unprofitable meetings 
of Convocation for months at a time, the reader will probably 
agree with me that, like too many, he was a man of more 
book-learning and cleverness than good sense. 

The mother of John Wesley was evidently a woman of extra- 
ordinary power of mind. She was the daughter of Dr. Annes- 
ley, a man well known to readers of Puritan theology as one of 
the chief promoters of the Morning Exercises, and ejected from 
St. Giles', Cripplegate, in 1662. From him she seems to have 
inherited the masculine sense and strong decided judgment 
which distinguished her character. To the influence of his 
mother's early training and example, John Wesley, doubtless, 
was indebted for many of his peculiar habits of mind and quali- 
fications. 

Her own account of the way in which she educated all her 
children, in one of her letters to her son John, is enough to 
show that she was no common woman, and that her sons were 
not likely to turn out common men. She says, " None of them 
was taught to read till five years old, except Keziah, in whose 
case I was over-ruled ; and she was more years in learning than 
any of the rest had been months. The way of teaching was 
this : the day before a child began to learn, the house was set 
in order, every one's work appointed them, and a charge given 
that none should come into the room from nine to twelve, or 
from two to five, which were our school hours. One day was 
allowed the child wherein to learn its letters, and each of them 
did in that time know all its letters, great and small, except 
Molly and Nancy, who were a day and a half before they knew 
them perfectly, for which I then thought them very dull ; but 
the reason why I thought them so was because the rest learned 
so readily, and your brother Samuel, who was the first child I 



HIS MO THER'S MEE TINGS. 6 7 

ever taught, learnt the alphabet in a few hours. He was five 
years old on the 10th of February; the next day he began to 
learn, and as soon as he knew the letters, began at the first 
chapter of Genesis. He was taught to spell the first verse, then 
to read it over and over till he could read it off-hand without 
any hesitation ; so on to the second, &c, till he took ten verses 
for a lesson, which he quickly did. Easter fell low that year, 
and by Whitsuntide he could read a chapter very well, for he 
read continually, and had such a prodigious memory that I 
cannot remember ever to have told him the same word twice. 
What was stranger, any word he had learnt in his lesson he knew 
wherever he saw it, either in his Bible or any other book, by which 
means he learned very soon to read an English author well." 

Her energetic and decided conduct, as wife of a parish 
clergyman, is strikingly illustrated by a correspondence still 
extant between herself and her husband on a curious occasion. 
It appears that during Mr. Wesley's long-protracted absences 
from home in attending Convocation, Mrs. Wesley, dissatisfied 
with the state of things at Epworth', began the habit of gathering 
a few parishioners at the rectory on Sunday evenings and read- 
ing to them. As might naturally have been expected, the 
attendance soon became so large that her husband took alarm 
at the report he heard, and made some objections to the prac- 
tice. The letters of Mrs. Wesley on this occasion are a model 
of strong, hard-headed, Christian good sense, and deserve the 
perusal of many timid believers in the present day. After de- 
fending what she had done by many wise and unanswerable 
arguments, and beseeching her husband to consider seriously 
the bad consequences of stopping the meeting, she winds up all 
with the following remarkable paragraph : — " If you do, after 
all, think fit to dissolve this assembly, do not tell me that you 
desire me to do it, for that will not satisfy my conscience. But 
send me your positive command in such full and express terms 
as may absolve me from all guilt and punishment for neglecting 



68 ED UCA TED A T CHAR TER-HO USE. 

the opportunity of doing good, when you and I shall appear 
before the great and awful tribunal of our Lord Jesus Christ." 

A mother of this stamp was just the person to leave deep 
marks and impressions on the minds of her children. Of the 
old rector of Epworth we can trace little in his sons John and 
Charles, except, perhaps, their poetical genius. But there is 
much in John's career and character throughout life which shows 
the hand of his mother. 

The early years of John Wesley's life appear to have passed 
quietly away in his Lincolnshire home. The only remarkable 
event recorded by his biographers is his marvellous escape 
from being burnt alive, when Epworth rectory was burned down. 
This happened in 1709, when he was six years old, and seems 
to have been vividly impressed on his mind. He was pulled 
through the bedroom window, at the last moment, by a man 
who, for want of a ladder, stood on another man's shoulders. 
Just at that moment the roof of the house fell in, but happily 
fell inward, and the boy and his deliverer escaped unhurt. He 
says himself, in his description of the event, "When they 
brought me to the house where my father was, he cried out, 
' Come, neighbours, let us kneel down ! let us give thanks to 
God ! He has given me all my eight children ; let the house 
go, I am rich enough.' " 

In the year 17 14, at the age of eleven, John Wesley was- 
placed at the Charter-house School in London. That mighty 
plunge in life — a boy's first entrance at a public school — seems 
to have done him no harm. He had probably been well 
grounded at his father's house in all the rudiments of a classical 
education, and soon became distinguished for his diligence and 
progress at school. At the age of sixteen his elder brother, 
then an usher at Westminster, describes him as " a brave boy, 
learning Hebrew as fast as he can." 

In the year 1720, at the age of seventeen, John Wesley went 
up to Oxford as an undergraduate, having been elected to 



EARL Y RELIGTO US HIS TOR Y. 69 

Christ Church. Little is known of the first three or four years 
of his university life, except that he was steady, studious, and 
remarkable for his classical knowledge and genius for compo- 
sition. It is evident, however, that he made the best use of his 
time at college, and picked up as much as he could in a day 
when honorary class-lists were unknown, and incitements to 
study were very few. Like most great divines, he found the ad- 
vantage of university education all his life long. Men might 
dislike his theology, but they could never say that he was a 
fool, and had no right to be heard. 

In the beginning of 1725, at the age of twenty-two, he seems 
to have gone through much exercise of mind as to the choice 
of a profession. Naturally enough, he thought of taking orders, 
but was somewhat daunted by serious reflection on the solemnity 
of the step. This very reflection, however, appears to have 
been most useful to him. and to have produced in his mind 
deeper thoughts about God, his soul, and religion generally, 
than he had ever entertained before. He began to study 
divinity, and to go through a regular course of reading for the 
ministry. He had, probably, no very trustworthy guide in his 
choice of religious literature at this period. The books which 
apparently had the greatest influence on him were Jeremy 
Taylor's " Holy Living and Dying," and Thomas a Kempis's 
" Imitation of Christ." Devout and well-meaning as these 
authors are, they certainly were not likely to give him very 
clear views of scriptural Christianity, or very cheerful and happy 
views of Christ's service. In short, though they did him good 
by making him feel that true religion was a serious business, and 
a concern of the heart, they evidently left him in much dark- 
ness and perplexity. 

At this stage of John Wesley's life, his correspondence with 
his father and mother is peculiarly interesting, and highly 
creditable both to the parents and the son. He evidently 
opened his mind to them, and told them all his mental and 



70 CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS PARENTS. 

spiritual difficulties. His letters and their replies are well worth 
reading. They all show more or less absence of spiritual light 
and clear views of the gospel. But a singular vein of honesty 
and conscientiousness runs throughout. One feels "This is 
just the spirit that God will bless. This is the single eye to 
which will be given more light." 

Let us hear what his father says about the question, " Which 
is the best commentary on the Bible 1 " "I answer, the Bible 
itself. For the several paraphrases and translations of it in the 
Polyglot, compared with the original and with one another, are 
in my opinion, to an honest, devout, industrious, and humble 
man, infinitely preferable to any comment I ever saw/' 

Let us hear what his mother says on the point of taking 
holy orders : — " The alteration of your temper has occasioned 
me much speculation. I, who am apt to be sanguine, hope it 
may proceed from the operation of God's Holy Spirit, that by 
taking off your relish for earthly enjoyments he may prepare 
and dispose your mind for a more serious and close application 
to things of a more sublime and spiritual nature. If it be so, 
happy are you if you cherish those dispositions. And now in 
good earnest resolve to make religion the business of your life ; 
for, after all, that is the one thing that, strictly speaking, is 
necessary : all things beside are comparatively little to the pur- 
poses of life. I heartily wish you would now enter upon a strict 
examination of yourself, that you may know whether you have 
a reasonable hope of salvation by Jesus Christ. If you have 
the satisfaction of knowing, it will abundantly reward your 
pains ; if you have not, you will find a more reasonable occasion 
for tears than can be met with in a tragedy. This matter de- 
serves great consideration by all, but especially by those designed 
for the ministry, who ought above all things to make their own 
calling and election sure, lest, after they have preached to others, 
they themselves should be cast away." 

Let us hear what his mother says about Thomas a Kempis's 



HIS ORDINATION. 71 

opinion, that all mirth or pleasure is useless, if not sinful. She 
observes : — " I take Kempis to have been an honest, weak man, 
that had more zeal than knowledge, by his condemning all 
mirth or pleasure as sinful or useless, in opposition to so many 
direct and plain texts of Scripture. Would you judge of the 
lawfulness or unlawfulness of pleasures? of the innocence or 
malignity of actions'? take this rule, — whatever weakens your 
reason, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures your 
sense of God, or takes off the relish of spiritual things ; in short, 
whatever increases the strength and authority of your body over 
your mind, that thing is sin to you, however innocent it may be 
in itself." 

Let us hear what John Wesley himself says in a letter on the 
opinion of Jeremy Taylor — " Whether God has forgiven us or 
no, we know not ; therefore let us be sorrowful for ever having 
sinned." He remarks — " Surely the graces of the Holy Ghost 
are not of so little force as that we cannot perceive whether we 
have them or not. If we dwell in Christ, and Christ in us, 
which He will not do unless we be regenerate, certainly we 
must be sensible of it. If we never can have any certainty of 
being in a state of salvation, good reason is it that every moment 
should be spent, not in joy, but in fear and trembling; and 
then, undoubtedly, in this life we are of all men most miserable. 
God deliver us from such a fearful expectation as this." 

Correspondence of this style could hardly fail to do good to 
a young man in John Wesley's frame of mind. It led him no 
doubt to closer study of the Scriptures, deeper self-examination, 
and more fervent prayer. Whatever scruples he may have had 
were finally removed, and he was at length ordained deacon on 
September the 19th, 1725, by Dr. Potter, then Bishop of Oxford, 
and afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. 

In the year 1726 John Wesley was elected Fellow of Lincoln 
College, after a contest of more than ordinary severity. His 
recently adopted seriousness of deportment and general reli- 



72 HIS RESIDENCE AT OXFORD. 

giousness were used as a handle against him by his adversaries. 
But his high character carried him triumphantly through all 
opposition, to the great delight of his father. Tried as he ap- 
parently was at the time in his temporal circumstances, he 
wrote : " Whatever will be my own fate before the summer is 
over God knows ; but, wherever I am, my Jack is Fellow of 
Lincoln." 

The eight years following John Wesley's election to his fel- 
lowship of Lincoln — from 1726 to 1734 — form a remarkable 
epoch in his life, and certainly gave a tone and colour to all 
his future history. During the whole of these years he was 
resident at Oxford, and for some time at any rate acted as tutor 
and lecturer in his college. Gradually, however, he seems to 
have laid himself out more and more to try to do good to 
others, and latterly was entirely taken up w r ith it. 

His mode of action was in the highest degree simple and 
unpretending. Assisted by his brother Charles, then a student 
of Christ Church, he gathered a small society of like-minded 
young men, in order to spend some evenings in a week together 
in the study of the Greek Testament. This was in November 
1729. The members of this society were at first four in num- 
ber; namely, John Wesley, Charles Wesley, Mr. Morgan of 
Christ Church, and Mr. Kirkman of Merton. At a somewhat 
later period they were joined by Mr. Ingham of Queen's, Mr. 
Broughton of Exeter, Mr. Clayton of Brazenose, the famous 
George Whitefield of Pembroke, and the well-known James 
Hervey of Lincoln. 

This little band of witnesses, as might reasonably have been 
expected, soon began to think of doing good to others, as w T ell as 
getting good themselves. In the summer of 1730 they began 
to visit prisoners in the castle and poor people in the town, to 
send neglected children to school, to give temporal aid to the 
sick and needy, and to distribute Bibles and Prayer-books 
among those who had not got them. Their first steps were 



THE " HOL Y CL UB. " 73 

taken very cautiously, and with frequent reference to John 
Wesley's father for advice. Acting by his advice, they laid all 
their operations before the Bishop of Oxford and his chaplain, 
and did nothing without full ecclesiastical sanction. 

Cautious, and almost childish, however, as the proceedings 
of these young men may appear to us in the present day, they 
were too far in advance of the times to escape notice, hatred, 
and opposition. A kind of persecution and clamour was raised 
against Wesley and his companions as enthusiasts, fanatics, and 
troublers of Israel. They were nicknamed the " Methodists " 
or " Holy Club," and assailed with a storm of ridicule and 
abuse. Through this, however, they manfully persevered, and 
held on their way, being greatly encouraged by the letters of 
the old Rector of Epworth. In one of them he says, " I hear 
my son John has the honour of being styled the Father of 
the Holy Club. If it be so, I am sure I must be the grand- 
father of it, and I need not say that I had rather any of my 
sons should be so dignified and distinguished than have the 
title His Holiness." 

The real amount of spiritual good that John Wesley did 
during these eight years of residence at Oxford is a point that 
cannot easily be ascertained. With ail his devotedness, asceti- 
cism, and self-denial, it must be remembered that at this time 
he knew very little of the pure gospel of Christ. His views of 
religious truth, to say the least, were very dim, misty, defective, 
and indistinct. No one was more sensible of this than he 
afterwards was himself, and no one could be more ready and 
willing to confess it. Such books as " Law's Serious Call," 
"Law's Christian Perfection," " Theologia Germanica,". and 
mystical writers, were about the highest pitch of divinity that 
he had yet attained. But we need not doubt that he learned 
experience at this period which he found useful in after-life. 
At any rate he became thoroughly trained in habits of labo- 
riousness, time-redemption, and self-mortification, which he 



74 SAILS FOR GEORGIA. 

carried with him to the day of his death. God has his own 
way of tempering and preparing instruments for his work, and, 
whatever we may think, we may be sure his way is best. 

In the year 1734 John Wesley's father died, and the family 
home was broken up. Just at this time the providence of God 
opened up to him a new sphere of duty, the acceptance of 
which had a most important effect on his whole spiritual history. 
This sphere was the colony of Georgia, in North America. 
The trustees of that infant settlement were greatly in want of 
proper clergymen to send out, both to preach the gospel to the 
Indians and to provide means of grace for the colonists. At 
this juncture John Wesley and his friends were suggested to 
their notice, as the most suitable persons they could find, on 
account of their high character for regular behaviour, attention 
to religious duties, and readiness to endure hardships. The 
upshot of the matter was, that an offer was made to John 
Wesley, and, after conferring with Mr. Law, his mother, his 
elder brother, and other friends, he accepted the proposal of 
the trustees, and, in company with his brother Charles and their 
common friend Mr. Ingham, set sail for Georgia. 

Wesley landed in Georgia on the 6th of February 1736, after 
a long stormy voyage of four months, and remained in the 
colony two years. I shall not take up the reader's time by any 
detailed account of his proceedings there. It may suffice to 
say, that, for any good he seems to have done, his mission was 
almost useless. Partly from the inherent difficulties of an 
English clergyman's position in a colony — partly from the con- 
fused and disorderly condition of the infant settlement where 
he was stationed — partly from a singular want of tact and dis- 
cretion in dealing with men and things — partly, above all, from 
his own very imperfect views of the gospel, Wesley's expedition 
to Georgia appears to have been a great failure, and he was evi- 
dently glad to get away. 

The ways of God, however, are not as man's ways. There 



RETURNS TO ENGLAND. 75 

was a "need be" for the two years' absence in America, just 
as there was for Philip's journey down the desert road to Gaza, 
and Paul's sojourn in prison at Cassarea. If Wesley did nothing 
in Georgia, he certainly gained a great deal. If he taught little 
to others, he undoubtedly learned much. On the outward 
voyage he became acquainted with some Moravians on board, 
and was deeply struck by their deliverance from " the fear of 
death " in a storm. After landing in Georgia he continued his 
intercourse with them, and discovered to his astonishment that 
there was such a thing as personal assurance of forgiveness. 
These things, combined with the peculiar trials, difficulties, and 
disappointments of his colonial ministry, worked mightily on 
his mind, and showed him more of himself and the gospel than 
he had ever learned before. The result was that he landed at 
Deal on the 1st of February 1738, a very much humbler, but a 
much wiser man than he had ever been before. In plain words, 
he had become the subject of a real inward work of the Holy 
Ghost. 

Wesley's own accounts of his spiritual experience during these 
two years of his life are deeply interesting. I will transcribe 
one or two of them. 

On February the 7th, 1736, he records: — "On landing in 
Georgia I asked the advice of Mr. Spangenberg, one of the 
German pastors, with regard to my own conduct. He said in 
reply, ' My brother, I must first ask you one or two questions. 
Have you the witness within yourself? Does the Spirit of God 
bear witness with your spirit that you are a child of God V — I 
Was surprised, and knew not what to answer. He observed it, 
and asked, ' Do you know Jesus Christ?' — I paused, and said, 
'I know he is the Saviour of the world.' — 'True,' replied he; 
' but do you know he has saved you V — I answered, ' I hope he 
has died to save me.' — He only added, ' Do you know yourself?' 
— I said, ' I do.' But I fear they were vain words." 

On January 24th, 1738, on board ship on his homeward 



76 TRUE FAITH. 

voyage, he makes the following record : — ' I went to America 
to convert the Indians ; but oh, who shall convert me ? Who, 
what is he that will deliver me from this evil heart of unbelief? 
I have a fair summer religion ; I can talk well ; nay, and be- 
lieve myself, while no danger is near. But let death look me 
in the face, and my spirit is troubled, nor can I say to die is 
gain." 

On February the ist, 1738, the day that he landed in England, 
he says : " It is now two years and almost four months since I 
left my native country in order to teach the Georgian Indians 
the nature of Christianity ; but what have I learned of myself 
in the meantime ? Why, what I least suspected, that I, who 
went to America to convert others, was myself never converted 
to God ! I am not mad, though I thus speak ; but I speak the 
words of truth and soberness." 

" If it be said that I have faith — for many such things have 
I heard from miserable comforters — I answer, so have the devils 
a sort of faith ; but still they are strangers to the covenant of 
promise. . . . The faith I want is a sure trust and confidence in 
God that through the merits of Christ my sins are forgiven, and 
I reconciled to the favour of God. I want that faith which St. 
Paul recommends to all the world, especially in his Epistle to 
the Romans ; that faith which makes every one that hath it to 
cry, ' I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me ; and the life 
which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of 
God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.' I want that 
faith which none can have without knowing that he hath it." 

Records like these are deeply instructive. They teach that 
important lesson which man is so slow to learn — that we may 
have a great deal of earnestness and religiousness without any 
true soul-saving and soul-comforting religion — that we may be 
diligent in the use of fasting, prayers, forms, ordinances, and 
the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, without knowing anything 
of inward joy, peace, or communion with God — and above all, 



STAR TS A RELIGIO US SO CIE TY. 7 7 

that we may be moral in life, and laborious in good works, 
without being true believers in Christ, or fit to die and meet 
God. Well would it be for the churches if truths like these 
were proclaimed from every pulpit, and pressed on every con- 
gregation ! Thousands, for lack of such truths, are walking in 
a vain shadow, and totally ignorant that they are yet dead in 
sins. If any one wants to know how far a man may go in 
outward gqodness, and yet not be a true Christian, let him 
carefully study the experience of John Wesley. I am bold to 
say that it is eminently truth for the times. 

A man hungering and thirsting after righteousness, as Wes- 
ley was now, was not left long without more light. The good 
work which the Holy Ghost had begun within him was carried 
on rapidly after he landed in England, until the sun rose on his 
mind, and the shadows passed away. Partly by conference 
with Peter Bohler, a Moravian, and other Moravians in London, 
partly by study of the Scriptures, partly by special prayer for 
living, saving, justifying faith as the gift of God, he was brought 
to a clear view of the gospel, and found out the meaning of joy 
and peace in simply believing. Let me add — as an act of 
justice to one of whom the world was not worthy — that at this 
period he was, by his own confession, much helped by Martin 
Luther's preface to the Epistle to the Romans. 

This year, 1738, was beyond doubt the turning-point in Wes- 
ley's spiritual history, and gave a direction to all his subsequent 
life. It was in the spring of this year that he began a religious 
society at the Moravian Chapel in Fetter Lane, London, which 
was the rough type and pattern of all Methodist societies formed 
afterwards. The rules of this little society are extant still, and 
with some additions, modifications, and improvements, contain 
the inward organization of Methodism in the present day. It 
was at this period also that he began preaching the new truths 
he had learned, in many of the pulpits in London, and soon 
found, like Whitefield, that the proclamation of salvation by 



78 COMMENCES FIELD-PREACHING. 

grace, and justification by faith, was seldom allowed a second 
time. It was in the winter of this year, after returning from a 
visit to the Moravian settlement in Germany, that he began 
aggressive measures on home heathenism, and in the neighbour- 
hood of Bristol followed Whitefield's example by preaching in 
the open air, in rooms, or wherever men could be brought to- 
gether. 

We have now reached a point at which John Wesley's history, 
like that of his great contemporary Whitefield, becomes one un- 
deviating uniform narrative up to the time of his death. It would 
be useless to dwell on one year more than another. He was 
always occupied in one and the same business, always going up 
and down the land preaching, and always conducting evangel- 
istic measures of some kind and description. For fifty-three 
years — from 1738 to 1791 — he held on his course, always busy, 
and always busy about one thing — attacking sin and ignorance 
everywhere, preaching repentance toward God and faith toward 
our Lord Jesus Christ everywhere — awakening open sinners, 
leading on inquirers, building up saints — never wearied, never 
swerving from the path he had marked out, and never doubting 
of success. Those only who read the Journals he kept for fifty 
years can have any idea of the immense amount of work that he 
got through. Never perhaps did any man have so many irons in 
the fire at one time, and yet succeed in keeping so many hot. 

Like Whitefield, he justly regarded preaching as God's chosen 
instrument for doing good to souls, and hence, wherever he 
went, his first step was to preach. Like him, too, he was ready 
to preach anywhere or at any hour — early in the morning or 
late at night, in church, in chapel, or in room — in streets, in 
fields, or on commons and greens. Like him, too, he was 
always preaching more or less the same great truths — sin, Christ, 
and holiness — ruin, redemption, and regeneration — the blood 
of Christ and the work of the Spirit — faith, repentance, and con- 
version — from one end of the year to the other. 



HIS SYSTEM OF ORGANIZATION. 79 

Wesley, however, was very unlike Whitefield in one important 
respect. He did not forget to organize as well as to preach. 
He was not content with reaping the fields which he found 
ripe for the harvest. He took care to bind up his sheaves and 
gather them into the barn. He was as far superior to White- 
field as an administrator and man of method, as he was inferior 
to him as a mere preacher.* Shut out from the Church of 
England by the folly of its rulers, he laid the foundation of a 
new denomination with matchless skill, and with a rare discern- 
ment of the wants of human nature. To unite his people as 
one body — to give every one something to do — to make each 
one consider his neighbour and seek his edification — to call 
forth latent talent and utilize it in some direction — to keep " all 
at it and always at it " (to adopt his quaint saying), — these were 
his aims and objects. The machinery he called into existence 
was admirably well adapted to carry out his purposes. His 
preachers, lay-preachers, class-leaders, band-leaders, circuits, 
classes, bands, love-feasts, and watch-nights, made up a spiritual 
engine which stands to this day, and in its own way can hardly 
be improved. If one thing more than another has given per- 
manence and solidity to Methodism, it was its founder's mas- 
terly talent for organization. 

It is needless to tell a Christian reader that Wesley had con- 
stantly to fight with opposition. The prince of this world will 

* A writer in the North British Review has well and forcibly described the difference 
between the two great English evangelists of the last century. " Whitefield was soul, and 
Wesley was system. Whitefield was the summer cloud which burst at morning or noon a 
fragrant exhalation over an ample track, and took the rest of the day to gather again ; 
Wesley was the polished conduit in the midst of the garden, through which the living water 
glided in pearly brightness and perennial music, the same vivid stream from day to day. 
All force and impetus, Whitefield was the powder-blast in the quarry, and by one explosive 
sermon would shake a district, and detach materials for other men's long work ; deft, neat, 
and painstaking, Wesley loved to split and trim each fragment into uniform plinths and 
polished stones. Whitefield was the bargeman or the waggoner who brought the timber 
of the house, and Wesley was the architect who set it up. Whitefield had no patience for 
ecclesiastical polity, no aptitude for pastoral details ; Wesley, with a leader-like propensity 
for building, was always constructing societies, and with a king-like craft of ruling, was 
most at home when presiding over a class or a conference. It was their infelicity that they 
did not always work together ; it was the happiness of the age, and the furtherance of the 
gospel, that they lived alongside of one another." 



80 HIS DEA TH. 

never allow his captives to be rescued from him without a 
struggle. Sometimes he was in danger of losing his life by the 
assaults of violent, ignorant, and semi-heathen mobs, as at Wed- 
nesbury, Walsall, Colne, Shoreham, and Devizes. Sometimes 
he was denounced by bishops as an enthusiast, a fanatic, and 
a sower of dissent. Often — far too often — he was preached 
against and held up to scorn by the parochial clergy, as a here- 
tic, a mischief-maker, and a meddling troubler of Israel. But 
none of these things moved the good man. Calmly, resolutely, 
and undauntedly he held on his course, and in scores of cases 
lived down all opposition. His letters in reply to the attacks 
made upon him are always dignified and sensible, and do equal 
honour to his heart and head. 

I have now probably told the reader enough to give him a 
general idea of John Wesley's life and history. I dare not go 
further. Indeed, the last fifty years of his life were so entirely 
of one complexion, that I know not where I should stop if I 
went further. When I have said that they were years of con- 
stant travelling, preaching, organizing, conferring, writing, argu- 
ing, reasoning, counselling, and warring against sin, the world, 
and the devil, I have just said all that I dare enter upon. 

He died at length in 1791, in the eighty-eighth year of his 
life and the sixty-fifth of his ministry, full of honour and respect, 
and in the "perfect peace" of the gospel. He had always 
enjoyed wonderful health, and never hardly knew what it was 
to feel weariness or pain till he was eighty-two. The weary 
wheels of life at length stood still, and he died of no disease but 
sheer old age. 

The manner of his dying was in beautiful harmony with his 
life. He preached within a very few days of his death, and the 
texts of his two last sermons were curiously characteristic of the 
man. The last but one was at Chelsea, on February the 18th, 
on the words, "The king's business requireth haste" (1 Sam. 
xxi. 8). The last of all was at Leatherhead, on Wednesday 



INCIDENTS OF HIS DEA TH. 3 1 

the 23rd, on the words, " Seek ye the Lord while he may be 
found" (Isa. lv. 6). After this he gradually sunk, and died on 
Tuesday the 29th. He retained his senses to the end, and 
showed clearly where his heart and thoughts were to the very 
last. 

The day but one before he died he slept much and spoke 
little. Once he said in a low but distinct manner, " There is 
no way into the holiest but by the blood of Jesus." He after- 
wards inquired what the words were from which he had 
preached a little before at Hampstead. Being told they were 
these, " Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that 
though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that 
ye through his poverty might be rich" (2 Cor. viii. 8) ; he re- 
plied, " That is the foundation, the only foundation ; there is 
no other." 

The day before he died, he said suddenly, " I will get up." 
While they were preparing his clothes, he broke out in a man- 
ner which, considering his weakness, astonished all present, in 
singing,— 

" I'll praise my Maker while I've breath, 
And when my voice is lost in death, 

Praise shall employ my noblest powers ; 
My days of praise shall ne'er be past, 
While life, and thought, and being last, 

Or immortality endures." 

Not long after, a person coming in, he tried to speak, but 
could not. Finding they could not understand him, he paused 
a little, and then with all his remaining strength cried out, 
" The best of all is, God is with us ;" and soon after, lifting up 
his dying voice in token of victory, and raising his feeble arm 
with a holy triumph, he again repeated the heart-reviving words, 
" The best of all is, God is with us." The night following he 
often attempted to repeat the hymn before mentioned, but could 
only utter the opening words, " I'll praise ; I'll praise." About 
ten o'clock next morning he was heard to articulate the word 
" Farewell," and then without a groan fell asleep in Christ and 

(195) G 



82 THE METHODIST COMMUNION. 

rested from his labours. Truly this was a glorious sunset ! 
" Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be 
like his." 

Wesley was once married. At the age of forty-eight he 
married a widow lady of the name of Vizelle, of a suitable age, 
and of some independent property, which she took care to have 
settled upon herself. The union was a most unhappy one. 
Whatever good qualities Mrs. Wesley may have had, they were 
buried and swallowed up in the fiercest and most absurd passion 
of jealousy. One of his biographers remarks, " Had he searched 
the whole kingdom, he could hardly have found a woman more 
unsuitable to him in all important respects." After making her 
husband as uncomfortable as possible for twenty years, by 
opening his letters, putting his papers in the hands of his ene- 
mies in the vain hope of blasting his character, and even some- 
times laying violent hands on him, Mrs. Wesley at length left 
her home, leaving word that she never intended to return. 
Wesley simply states the fact in his journal, saying that he knew 
not the cause, and briefly adding, " I did not forsake her, I did 
not dismiss her, I will not recall her." 

Like Whitefield, John Wesley left no children. But he left 
behind him a large and influential communion, which he not 
only saw spring up, but lived to see it attain a vigorous and 
healthy maturity. The number of Methodist preachers at the 
time of his death amounted in the British dominions to 313, 
and in the United States of America to 198. The number of 
Methodist members in the British dominions was 76,968, and 
in the United States 57,621. Facts like these need no com- 
ment ; they speak for themselves. Few labourers for Christ 
have ever been so successful as Wesley, and to none certainly 
was it ever given to see so much with his own eyes. 

In taking a general view of this great spiritual hero of the 
last century, it may be useful to point out some salient points 
of his character which demand particular attention. When 



WESLEY'S PECULIAR QUALIFICATIONS. 83 

God puts special honour on any of his servants, it is well to 
analyze their gifts, and to observe carefully what they were. 
What, then, were the peculiar qualifications which marked 
John Wesley 1 

The first thing which I ask the reader to notice is his extra- 
ordinary si?igleness of eye and tenacity of purpose. Once embarked 
on his evangelistic voyage, he pressed forward, and never 
flinched for a day. " One thing I do," seemed to be his motto 
and constraining motive. To preach the gospel, to labour to 
do good, to endeavour to save souls, — these seemed to become 
his only objects, and the ruling passion of his life. In pursuit 
of them he compassed sea and land, putting aside all considera- 
tions of ease and rest, and forgetting all earthly feelings. Few 
men but himself could have gone to Epworth, stood upon their 
father's tombstone, and preached to an open-air congregation, 
" The kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteous- 
ness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." Few but himself 
could have seen fellow-labourers, one after another, carried to 
their graves, till he stood almost alone in his generation, and 
yet preached on, as he did, with unabated spirit, as if the ranks 
around him were still full. But his marvellous singleness of 
eye carried him through all. " Beware of the man of one 
book," was the advice of an old philosopher to his pupils. 
The man of " one thing" is the man who in the long run does 
great things, and shakes the world. 

The second thing I ask the reader to notice is his extra- 
ordinary diligence, self denial, and economy of time. It puts one 
almost out of breath to read the good man's Journals, and to 
mark the quantity of work that he crowded into one year. He 
was to all appearance always working, and never at rest. 
1 Leisure and I," he said, " have taken leave of one another. 
I propose to be busy as long as I live, if my health is so long 
indulged to me." This resolution was made in the prime of 
life ; and never was resolution more punctually observed. 



84 HIS VERSATILITY OF MIND. 

" Lord, let me not live to be useless," was the prayer which he 
uttered after seeing one, whom he once knew as an active and 
useful man, reduced by age to be a picture of human nature in 
disgrace, feeble in body and mind, slow of speech and under- 
standing. Even the time which he spent in travelling was not 
lost. " History, poetry, and philosophy," said he, " I commonly 
read on horseback, having other employment at other times." 
When you met him in the street of a crowded city, he attracted 
notice not only by his bands and cassock, and his long silvery 
hair, but by his pace and manner ; both indicating that all his 
minutes were numbered, and that not one was to be lost. 
" But though I am always in haste," he said, " I am never in a 
hurry, because I never undertake any more work than I can go 
through with perfect calmness of spirit." Here, again, is one 
secret of great usefulness. We must abhor idleness ; we must 
redeem time. No man knows how much can be done in 
twelve hours until he tries. It is precisely those who do most 
work who find that they can do most. 

The last thing which I ask the reader to notice is his marvel- 
lous versatility of mind and capacity for a variety of things. No 
one perhaps can fully realize this who does not read the large 
biographies which record all his doings, or study his wonderful 
Journals. Things the most opposite and unlike — things the 
most petty and trifling — things the most thoroughly secular — 
things most thoroughly spiritual, — all are alike mastered by his 
omnivorous mind. He finds time for ail, and gives directions 
about all. One day we find him condensing old divinity, and 
publishing fifty volumes of theology, called the " Christian 
Library;" — another day we find him writing a complete com- 
mentary on the whole Bible ; — another day we find him com- 
posing hymns, which live to this day in the praises of many a 
congregation; — another day we find him drawing up minute 
directions for his preachers, forbidding them to shout and 
scream and preach too long, insisting on their reading regularly 



AN ARMINIAN IN DOCTRINE. 85 

lest their sermons became threadbare, requiring them not to 
drink spirits, and charging them to get up early in the morn- 
ing; — another day we find him calmly reviewing the current 
literature of the day, and criticizing all the new books with cool 
and shrewd remarks, as if he had nothing else to do. Like 
Napoleon, nothing seems too small or too great for his mind to 
attend to ; like Calvin, he writes as if he had nothing to do 
but write, preaches as if he had nothing to do but preach, and 
administers as if he had nothing to do but administer. A ver- 
satility like this is one mighty secret of power, and is a striking 
characteristic of most men who leave their mark on the world. 
To be a steam-engine and a penknife, a telescope and a micro- 
scope, at the same time, is probably one of the highest attain- 
ments of the human mind. 

I should think my sketch of Wesley incomplete if I did not 
notice the objection continually made against him — that he was 
an Arminian in doctrine. I fully admit the seriousness of the 
objection. I do not pretend either to explain the charge away, 
or to defend his objectionable opinions. Personally, I feel 
unable to account for any well-instructed Christian holding 
such doctrines as perfection and the defectibility of grace, or 
denying such as election and the imputed righteousness of 
Christ. 

But, after all, we must beware that we do not condemn 
men too strongly for not seeing all things in our point of view, 
or excommunicate and anathematize them because they do not 
pronounce our shibboleth. It is written in God's Word, " Why 
dost thou judge thy brother 1 or why dost thou set at nought 
thy brother?" We must think and let think. We must learn 
to distinguish between things that are of the essence of the 
gospel and things which are of the perfection of gospel. We 
may think that a man preaches an imperfect gospel who denies 
election, considers justification to be nothing more than forgive- 
1 ness, and tells believers in one sermon that they may attain 



86 WESLEY'S SERMON ON THE 

perfection in this life, and in another sermon that they may 
entirely fall away from grace. But if the same man strongly 
and boldly exposes and denounces sin, clearly and fully lifts up 
Christ, distinctly and openly invites men to believe and repent, 
shall we dare to say that the man does not preach the gospel 
at all % Shall we dare to say that he will do no good ? I, for 
one, cannot say so, at any rate. If I am asked whether I 
prefer Whitefield's gospel or Wesley's, I answer at once that I 
prefer Whitefield's : I am a Calvinist, and not an Armmian. 
But if I am asked to go further, and to say that Wesley preached 
no gospel at all, and did no real good, I answer at once that I 
cannot do so. That Wesley would have done better if he could 
have thrown off his Arminianism, I have not the least doubt ; 
but that he preached the gospel,, honoured Christ, and did 
extensive good, I no more doubt than I doubt my own 
existence. 

Let those who depreciate Wesley as an Arminian, read his 
own words in the funeral sermon which he preached on the 
occasion of Whitefield's death. He says of his great fellow- 
labourer and brother : — 

" His fundamental point was to give God all the glory of 
whatever is good in man. In the business of salvation he set 
Christ as high and man as low as possible. With this point he 
and his friends at Oxford — the original Methodists so-called — 
set out. Their grand principle was, there is no power by 
nature, and no merit in man. They insisted, ' all grace to 
speak, think, or act right, is in and from the Spirit of Christ ; 
and all merit is not in man, how high soever in grace, but' 
merely in the blood of Christ.' So he and they taught. There 
is no power in man, till it is given him from above, to do one 
good work, to speak one good word, or to form one good 
desire. For it is not enough to say all men are sick of sin : no, 
we are all dead in trespasses and sins. 

" And we are all helpless, both with regard to the power and 



DEATH OF WHITEFIELD. 87 

the guilt of sin. For who can bring a clean thing out of an 
unclean 1 None less than the Almighty. Who can raise those 
that are dead, spiritually dead, in sin % None but he who 
raised us from the dust of the earth. But on what consideration 
will he do this 1 Not for works of righteousness that we have 
done. The dead cannot praise thee, O Lord, nor can they do 
anything for which they should be raised to life. Whatever, 
therefore, God does, he does it merely for the sake of his well- 
beloved Son. ' He was wounded for our transgressions, he 
was bruised for our iniquities. He himself bore all our sins in 
his own body on the tree. He was, delivered for our offences, 
and rose again for our justification.' Here, then, is the sole 
meritorious cause of every blessing we can or do enjoy, and, in 
particular, of our pardon and acceptance with God, of our full 
and free justification. But by what means do we become inter- 
ested in what Christ has done and suffered 1 ' Not by works, 
lest any man should boast, but by faith alone.' ' We conclude,' 
says the apostle, ' that a man is justified by faith without the 
deeds of the law.' And ' to as many as receive Christ he gives 
power to become sons of God ; even to them which believe in 
,his name, who are born not of the will of man but of God.' 

" Except a man be thus born again he cannot enter into the 
kingdom of God. But all who are thus born of the Spirit have 
the kingdom of God within them. Christ sets up his kingdom 
in their hearts — righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy 
Ghost. That mind is in them which was in Christ Jesus, 
enabling them to walk as Christ walked. His indwelling Spirit 
makes them holy in mind, and holy in all manner of conversa- 
tion. But still, seeing all this is a free gift through the blood 
and righteousness of Christ, there is eternally the same reason 
to remember — he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord. 

" You are not ignorant that these are the fundamental doc- 
trines which Mr. Whitefield everywhere insisted on ; and may 
they not be summed up, as it were, in two words — ' the new 



88 WESLEY'S PREACHING. 

birth, and justification by faith?' These let us insist upon with 
all boldness, and at all times, in all places, in public and in 
private. Let us keep close to these good old unfashionable 
doctrines, how many soever contradict and blaspheme." 

Such were the words of the Arminian, John Wesley. I make 
no comment on them. I only say, before any one despises 
this great man because he was an Arminian, let him take care 
that he really knows what Wesley's opinions were. Above all, 
let him take care that he thoroughly understands what kind of 
doctrines he used to preach in England a hundred years ago. 



CHAPTER II. 

Wesley's Preaching — Preface to Published Volume of Sermons — Extracts from Sermons 
Preached before the University of Oxford — Rules for the Guidance of his Helpers- 
Advice to his Preachers — Letter to the Bishop of Lincoln — General Estimate of Wes- 
ley's Merits. 

England a hundred years ago received such deep impressions 
from John Wesley, that I should not feel I did him justice if I 
did not give my readers a few select specimens of his writings. 
Before we turn away from the father of Methodism, let us try to 
get some distinct idea of his style of thought and his mode of 
expressing himself. Let us see how his mind worked. 

The man who could leave his mark so indelibly on his fellow- 
countrymen as John Wesley did, we must all feel could have 
been no ordinary man. The man who could keep his hold on 
assemblies till he was between eighty and ninety years old, and 
produce effects second only to those produced by Whitefield, 
must evidently have possessed peculiar gifts. Two or three 
extracts from his sermons and other writings will probably be 
thought interesting and instructive by most Christian readers. 

The materials for forming a judgment in this matter are 
happily abundant, and easily accessible. A volume of fifty- 
seven sermons lies before me at this moment, prepared for 



HIS VOLUME OF SERMONS. 89 

publication by Wesley's own hands, and first published in 1771. 
It is a volume that deserves far more attention than it generally 
receives in the present day. The doctrine of some of the dis- 
courses, I must honestly confess, is sometimes very defective. 
Nevertheless, the volume contains many noble passages ; and 
there are not a few pages in it which, for clearness, terseness, 
pointedness, vigour, and pure Saxon phraseology, are perfect 
models of good style. 

Wesley's preface to his volume of sermons is of itself very re- 
markable. I will begin by giving a few extracts from it. He says, — 

"I design plain truth for plain people. Therefore, of set 
purpose, I abstain from all nice and philosophical speculations ; 
from all perplexed and intricate reasonings; and, as far as 
possible, from even the show of learning, unless in sometimes 
citing the original Scriptures. I labour to avoid all words 
which are not easy to be understood — all which are not used 
in common life ; and in particular those technical terms that 
so frequently occur in Bodies of divinity — those modes of 
speaking which men of reading are intimately acquainted with, 
but which to common people are an unknown tongue. Yet I 
am not assured that I do not sometimes slide into them un- 
awares ; it is so extremely natural to imagine that a word which 
is familiar to ourselves is so to all the world. 

"Nay, my design is, in some sense, to forget all that ever 
I have read in my life. I mean to speak in the general, as 
if I had never read one author, ancient or modern, always 
excepting the inspired. I am persuaded that, on the one hand, 
this may be a means of enabling me more clearly to express 
the sentiments of my heart, while I simply follow the chain of 
my own thoughts without entangling myself with those of other 
men ; and that, on the other, I shall come with fewer weights 
upon my mind, with less of prejudice and prepossession, either 
to search for myself or to deliver to others the naked truth of 
the gospel. 



Qo EXTRACTS FROM PREFACE TO 

"To candid, reasonable men I am not afraid to lay open 
what have been the inmost thoughts of my heart. * I have 
thought, * I am a creature of a day, passing through life as an 
arrow through the air. I am a spirit come from God, and 
returning to God, just hovering over the great gulf, till a few 
moments hence I am no more seen ! I drop into an un- 
changeable eternity ! I want to know one thing, — the way to 
heaven — how to land safe on that happy shore. God himself 
has condescended to teach the way ; for this very end he came 
from heaven. He hath written it down in a book. Oh, give 
me that book ! At any price give me the book of God ! I 
have it : here is knowledge enough for me. Let me be a man 
of one book. Here, then, I am free from the busy ways of 
men. I sit down alone : only God is here. In his presence 
I open, I read his book ; for this end — to find the way to 
heaven. Is there a doubt concerning the meaning of what I 
read 1 — does anything appear dark and intricate ? — I lift up my 
heart to the Father of lights : Lord, is it not thy word, " If any 
man lack wisdom, let him ask of God : " thou givest liberally, 
and upbraidest not. Thou hast said, if any be willing to do 
thy will he shall know. I am willing to do ; let me know thy 
will. I then search after and consider parallel passages of 
Scripture, comparing spiritual things with spiritual. I meditate 
thereon with all the earnestness and attention of which my 
mind is capable. If any doubt still remains, I consult those 
who are experienced in the ways of God ; and then the writings 
whereby, being dead, they yet speak. And what I thus learn 
that I teach.' 

" But some may say, I have mistaken the way myself, although 
I have undertaken to teach it to others. It is probable that 
many will think this, and it is very possible that I have. But 
I trust, whereinsoever I have mistaken, my mind is open to 
conviction. I sincerely desire to be better informed. I say to 
God and man, 'What I know not teach thou me.' 



VOLUME OF SERMONS. 91 

" Are you persuaded you see more clearly than me % It is 
not unlikely that you may. Then treat me as you would 
desire to be treated yourself upon a change of circumstances. 
Point me out a better way than I have yet known. Show me 
it is so by plain proof of Scripture. And if I linger in the path 
I have been accustomed to tread, and therefore I am unwilling 
to leave it, labour with me a little ; take me by the hand and 
lead me as I am able to bear. But be not discouraged if I 
entreat you not to beat me down in order to quicken my pace : 
I can go but feebly and slowly at best : then I should not be 
able to go at all. May I not request you, further, not to give 
me hard names, in order to bring me into the right way. 
Suppose I was ever so much in the wrong, I doubt this would 
not set me right. Rather it would make me run so much the 
further from you, and so get more and more out of the way. 

"Nay! perhaps if you are angry, so shall I be too; and then 
there will be small hopes of finding the truth. If once anger 
arises, its smoke will so dim the eyes of my soul that I shall be 
able to see nothing clearly. For God's sake, if it be possible 
to avoid it, let us not provoke one another to wrath. Let us 
not kindle in each other this fire of hell ; much less blow it up 
into a flame. If we could discern truth by that dreadful light, 
would it not be loss rather than gain 1 For how far is love, 
even with many wrong opinions, to be preferred before truth 
itself without love ! We may die without the knowledge of 
many truths, and yet be carried into Abraham's bosom. But 
if we die without love, what will knowledge avail? Just as 
much as it avails the devil and his angels !" 

The next specimen of John Wesley's mind shall be an extract 
from a sermon preached by him at St. Mary's, Oxford, before 
the University, on June 18, 1738, from the words, "By grace 
ye are saved through faith " (Ephes. ii. 8). It concludes with 
the following passages : — 

"At this time more especially will we speak, that by grace ye 



9 2 EXTRA C TS FR OM SERMONS PRE A CHED 

are saved through faith, because never was the maintaining this 
doctrine more seasonable than it is at this day. Nothing but 
this can effectually prevent the increase of the Romish delusion 
among us. It is endless to attack one by one all the errors of 
that Church. But salvation by faith strikes at the root, and all 
fall at once when this is established. It was this doctrine, 
which our Church justly calls the strong rock and foundation 
of the Christian religion, that first drove Popery out of these 
kingdoms, and it is this alone can keep it out. Nothing but 
this can give a check to that immorality which hath overspread 
the land as a flood. Can you empty the great deep drop by 
drop 1 Then you may reform us by dissuasion from particular 
vices. But let the righteousness which is of God by faith be 
brought in, and so shall its proud .waves be stayed. Nothing 
but this can stop the mouths of those who glory in their shame, 
and openly ' deny the Lord that bought them.' They can talk 
as sublimely of the law as he that hath it written by God in his 
heart. To hear them speak on this head might incline one to 
think they were not far from the kingdom of God. But take 
them out of the law into the gospel ; begin with the righteous- 
ness of faith, with Christ the end of the law to every one that 
believeth; and those who but now appeared almost if not alto- 
gether Christians, stand confessed the sons of perdition, as far 
from life and salvation (God be merciful unto them) as the 
depth of hell from the height of heaven. 

" For this cause the adversary so rages whenever salvation by 
faith is declared to the world. For this reason did he stir up 
earth and hell to destroy those who preached it. And for the 
same reason, knowing that faith alone could overturn the 
foundation of his kingdom, did he call forth all his forces, and 
employ all his arts of lies and calumny, to affright that champion 
of the Lord of hosts, Martin Luther, from reviving it. Nor can 
we wonder thereat; for as that man of God observes", How 
would it enrage a proud, strong man, armed, to be stopped and 



BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 93 

set at nought by a little child coming against him with a reed 
in his hand 1 Especially when he knew that little child would 
surely overthrow him and tread him under foot. Even so, 
Lord Jesus ! thus hath thy strength been even made perfect in 
weakness ! Go forth then, thou little child that believest in 
Him, and his right hand shall teach thee terrible things. 
Though thou art helpless and weak as an infant of days, the strong 
man shall not be able to stand before thee. Thou shalt prevail 
over him, and subdue him, and overthrow him, and trample him 
under thy feet. Thou shalt march on with the great Captain 
of thy salvation, conquering and to conquer, until all thine 
enemies are destroyed, and death is swallowed up in victory." 

The next specimen that I will give of John Wesley's preach- 
ing is the conclusion of his sermon on justification by faith. It 
ends with the following striking paragraph. The text is 
Romans iv. 5 : — 

" Thou ungodly one who hearest or readest these words, thou 
vile, helpless, miserable sinner, I charge thee before God, the 
judge of all, go straight unto Jesus with all thy ungodliness. 
Take heed thou destroy not thine own soul by pleading thy 
righteousness more or less. Go as altogether ungodly, guilty, 
lost, destroyed, deserving and dropping into hell ; and thus shalt 
thou find favour in his sight, and know that he justifieth the un- 
godly. As such thou shalt be brought unto the blood of sprink- 
ling, as an undone, helpless, damned sinner. Thus look unto 
Jesus ! There is the Lamb of God, who taketh away thy sins ! 
Plead thou no works, no righteousness of thine own ! no humi- 
lity, contrition, sincerity. In no wise. That were, in very 
deed, to deny the Lord that bought thee. No ! Plead thou 
singly the blood of the covenant, the ransom paid for thy proud, 
stubborn, sinful soul. Who art thou that now seest and feelest 
both thine inward and outward ungodliness 1 Thou art the 
man ! I want thee for my Lord. I challenge thee for a child 
of God by faith. The Lord hath need of thee. Thou who 



94 EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS PREACHED 

feelest thou art just fit for hell art just fit to advance his glory, 
the glory of free grace, justifying the ungodly and him thac 
worketh not. Oh, come quickly ! Believe in the Lord Jesus ; 
and thou, even thou, art reconciled to God. " 

The last example of John Wesley's preaching that I will 
bring before the reader, is a portion of a sermon preached by 
him at St. Mary's, Oxford, before the University, in 1744. The 
text is Acts iv. 31, and the title of the sermon is "Scriptural 
Christianity." After asking the question, "Where does Scrip- 
tural Christianity exist?" he proceeds to address his hearers in 
the following manner. — These hearers, we must remember, were 
the University of Oxford, Heads of Houses, Professors, Fellows, 
Tutors, and other residents : — 

" I beseech you, brethren, by the mercies of God, if ye do 
account me a madman or a fool, yet as a fool bear with me. 
It is utterly needful that some one should use great plainness 
of speech towards you. It is more especially needful at this 
time ; for who knoweth but it may be the last. Who knoweth 
how soon the righteous Judge may say : ' I will no more be 
entreated for this people. Though Noah, Daniel, and Job were 
in this land, they should but deliver their own souls.' And who 
will use this plainness if I do not? Therefore I, even I, will 
speak. And I adjure you, by the living God, that ye steel not 
your hearts against receiving a blessing at my hands. Do not 
say in your hearts, ' non persnadebis etiamsi persuaseris ;' or, in 
other words, ' Lord, thou shalt not send by whom thou wilt send. 
Let me rather perish in my blood than be saved by this man. ' 

"Brethren, I am persuaded better things of you. though I 
thus speak. Let me ask you then, in tender love, and in the 
spirit of meekness, is this city of Oxford a Christian city ? Is 
Christianity, Scriptural Christianity, found here ? Are we, as a 
community of men, so filled with the Holy Ghost as to enjoy in 
our hearts, and show forth in our lives, the genuine fruits of the 
Spirit? Are all the magistrates, all heads and governors of 



BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 95 

colleges and halls, and their respective societies (not to speak 
of inhabitants of the town), of one heart and one soul 1 Is the 
love of God shed abroad in our hearts 1 Are our tempers the 
same that were in Him 1 Are our lives agreeable thereto 1 
Are we holy, as He who hath called us is holy, in all manner 
of conversation 1 

" In the fear, and in the presence of the great God before 
whom both you and I shall shortly appear, I pray you that are 
in authority over us (whom I reverence for your office'* sake), to 
consider not after the manner of dissemblers with God, Are you 
filled with the Holy Ghost 1 Are you lively portraitures of him 
whom ye are appointed to represent among men 1 I have said, 
ye are gods, ye magistrates and rulers ; ye are by office so nearly 
allied to the God of heaven. In your several stations and 
degrees ye are to show forth to us the Lord our Governor. 
Are all the thoughts of your hearts, all your tempers and desires, 
suitable to your high calling 1 Are all your words like unto those 
which come out of the mouth of God ? Is there in all your 
actions dignity and love, a greatness which words cannot ex- 
press, which can flow only from a heart full of God, and yet 
consistent with the character of man that is a worm, and the 
son of man that is a worm % 

" Ye venerable men, who are more especially called to form 
the tender minds of youth, to dispel therein the shades of ignor- 
ance and error, and train them up to be heirs unto salvation, 
are you filled with the Holy Ghost, and with those fruits of the 
Spirit which your important office so indispensably requires 1 
Is your heart whole with God, and full of love and zeal to set 
up his kingdom on earth 1 Do you continually remind those 
under your care that the one rational end of all our studies is to 
know, love, and serve the only true God and Jesus Christ whom 
he hath sent 1 Do you inculcate upon them day by day that 
love alone never faileth, and that without love all learning is but 
splendid ignorance, pompous folly, vexation of spirit 1 Has all 



96 EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS PREACHED 

you teach an actual tendency to the love of God, and of all 
mankind for his sake % Have you an eye to this end, in what- 
ever you prescribe, touching the kind, manner, and measure of 
their studies, desiring and labouring that wherever the lot of 
these young soldiers of Christ is cast, they may be so many 
burning and shining lights, adorning the gospel of Christ in all 
things'? And, permit me to ask, do you put forth all your 
strength in the vast work you have undertaken? Do you 
labour herein with all your might, exerting every faculty of 
your souls, using every talent which God hath lent you, and that 
to the uttermost of your power % 

" Let it not be said that I speak here as if all under your care 
were intended to be clergymen. Not so ; I only speak as if 
they were all intended to be Christians. But what example is 
set them by us who enjoy the beneficence of our forefathers, 
by fellows, students, scholars, more especially those who are of 
some rank and eminence 1 Do ye, brethren, abound in the 
fruits of the Spirit, in lowliness of mind, in self-denial and 
mortification, in tenderness and composure of spirit, in patience, 
meekness, sobriety, temperance, and in unwearied, restless en- 
deavours to do good unto all men, to relieve their outward 
wants and to bring their souls to the true knowledge and love 
of God % Is this the general character of Fellows of colleges % 
I fear it is not. Rather, have not pride and haughtiness of 
spirit, impatience and peevishness, sloth and indolency, glut- 
tony and sensuality, and even a proverbial uselessness, been 
objected to us, perhaps not always by our enemies nor wholly 
without ground % Oh ! that God would roll away this reproach 
from us, that the very memory of it might perish for ever ! 

" Many of us are men immediately consecrated to God, called 
to minister in holy things. Are we, then, patterns to the rest, 
in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity 1 ? 
Is there written on our foreheads and on our hearts, Holiness 
to the Lord % From what motive did we enter upon the office 1 



BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 97 

Was it indeed with a single eye to serve God, trusting that we 
were inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take upon us this 
ministration for the promotion of his glory, and the edifying of 
his people % And have we clearly determined, by God's grace, 
to give ourselves wholly to this office % Do we forsake and 
set aside, as much as in us lies, all worldly cares and studies 1 
Do we apply ourselves wholly to this one thing, and draw all 
our cares and studies this way 1 Are we apt to teach 1 Are 
we taught of God, that we may be able to teach others also 1 
Do we know God 1 Do we know Jesus- Christ 1 Hath God 
revealed his Son in us ? And hath he made us able ministers 
of the new covenant 1 Where, then, are the seals of our 
apostleship 1 Who that were dead in trespasses and sins, have 
been quickened by our word 1 Have we a burning zeal to save 
souls from death, so that for their sakes we often forget even to 
eat our bread 1 Do we speak plainly, by manifestation of the 
truth commending ourselves to every man's conscience ? Are 
we dead to the world, and the things of the world, laying up all 
our treasure in heaven 1 Do we lord it over God's heritage, or 
are we the least, the servants of all 1 When we bear the re- 
proach of Christ does it sit heavy on us, or do we rejoice 
therein 1 When we are smitten on the one cheek, do we resent 
it ] Are we impatient of affronts 1 or do we turn the other 
cheek also, not resisting evil, but overcoming evil with good 1 
Have we a bitter zeal, inciting us to strive sharply and passion- 
ately with them that are out of the way 1 or, is our zeal the flame 
of love, so as to direct all our words with sweetness, lowliness, 
and meekness of wisdom 1 

" Once more, what shall we say concerning the youth of this 
place ? — Have you either the form or the power of Christian 
godliness 1 Are you humble, teachable, advisable ; or stubborn, 
self-willed, heady, and high-minded 1 Are you obedient to your 
superiors as to parents, or do you despise those to whom ye 
owe the tenderest reverence 1 Are you diligent in your every 

(m) 7 



98 EXTRA CTS FROM SERMONS PRE A CHED 

business, pursuing your studies with all your strength % Do you 
redeem the time, crowding as much work into every day as it 
can contain % Rather are ye not conscious to yourselves that 
you waste away day after day, either in reading what has no 
tendency to Christianity, or in gambling, or in — you know not 
what % Are you better managers of your fortune than of your 
time 1 Do you, out of principle, take care to owe no man any- 
thing 1 Do you remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy, to 
spend it in the more immediate worship of God ! When you 
are in his house, do you consider God is there ? do you behave 
as seeing him that is invisible 1 Do you know how to possess 
your bodies in sanctification and honour 1 Are not drunken- 
ness and uncleanness found among you? Yea, are there not a 
multitude of you who glory in their shame 1 Do not many of 
you take the name of God in vain, perhaps habitually, with- 
out either remorse or fear 1 ? Yea, are there not a multitude 
among you that are forsworn 1 I fear a swiftly-increasing 
multitude 1 Be not surprised, brethren. Before God and this 
congregation I own myself to have been of this number, 
solemnly swearing to observe all those customs which I then 
knew nothing of, and those statutes which I did not so much 
as read over, either then or for some years after. What is per- 
jury if this is not ? But if it be, oh, what a weight of sin, yea, 
sin of no common dye, lieth upon us ! And doth not the Most 
High regard it ? 

" May it not be one of the consequences of this that so many 
of you are a generation of triflers, triflers with God, with one 
another, and with your own souls 1 For how few of you spend, 
from one week to another, a single hour in private prayer? 
How few of you have any thought of God in the general tenor 
of your conversation 1 Who of you is in any degree acquainted 
with the work of his Spirit, his supernatural work in the souls of 
men 1 Can you hear, unless now and then in a church, any 
talk of the Holy Spirit 1 Would you not take it for granted, if 






BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 99 

one began such a conversation, that it was either hypocrisy or 
enthusiasm 1 In the name of the Lord God Almighty, I ask 
what religion are you of? Even the talk of Christianity, ye can- 
not, will not bear. Oh, my brethren, what a Christian city is 
this ! It is time for thee, Lord, to lay to thine hand. 

"For, indeed, what probability — what possibility rather, 
speaking after the manner of men — is there that Christianity, 
Scriptural Christianity, should be again the religion of this place, 
and that all orders of men among us should speak and live as 
men filled with the Holy Spirit ? By whom should this Chris- 
tianity be restored ? By those of you that are in authority 1 
Are you convinced, then, that this is Scriptural Christianity] 
Are you desirous it should be restored ? Do you count your 
fortune, liberty, life, not dear unto yourselves so you may be 
instrumental in restoring of it? But suppose you have the 
desire, who hath any power proportioned to effect ? Perhaps 
some of you have made a few vain attempts, but with how small 
success ! Shall Christianity, then, be restored by young, un- 
known, inconsiderable men ? I know not whether ye yourselves 
would suffer it. Would not some of you cry out, ' Young man, 
in so doing thou reproachest us !' But there is no danger of 
your being put to the proof ; so hath iniquity overspread us 
like a flood. Whom then shall God send 1 The famine, the 
pestilence (God's last messengers to a guilty land), or the sword? 
the armies of Romish aliens to reform us into our first love ? 
Nay, rather let us fall into thy hand, O Lord ; and let us not 
fall into the hand of man. 

" Lord, save, or we perish ! Take us out of the mire, that 
we sink not ! Oh, help us against these enemies, for vain is the 
help of man. Unto thee all things are possible. According to 
the greatness of thy power, preserve thou those that are ap- 
pointed to die, and preserve us in the manner that seemeth to 
thee good ; not as we will, but as thou wilt." 

The reader will probably agree with me that this is a re- 



I oo WESL E Y'S R ULES FOR THE 

markable sermon, and one of a class that is not frequently 
heard in University pulpits. What was thought of it in 1744 
by the Vice-chancellor, the Heads of Houses, and the Fellows 
and Tutors of Colleges, we have little means of knowing. In 
his journal, Wesley only remarks : " I preached this day for the 
last time, I suppose, at St. Mary's. Be it so. I am now clear 
of the blood of these men. I have fully delivered my own soul. 
The beadle came to me afterwards, and told me, ' that the Vice- 
chancellor had sent him for my notes.' I sent them without 
delay, not without admiring the wise providence of God. Per- 
haps few men of note would have given a sermon of mine the 
reading, if I had put it in their hands. But by this reason it 
came to be read, probably more than once, by every man of 
eminence in the University." Many, perhaps, will agree with 
me that, if Oxford had heard more of such plain preaching 
during the last one hundred and twenty years, it would have 
been well for the Church of England. 

Turning away from Wesley's preaching, I will now give a 
specimen of his mind of a very different description. I will 
give the twelve rules which he laid down for the guidance of his 
helpers in evangelistic work in the Methodist communion. They 
serve to illustrate, I think, in a very striking manner, the great 
shrewdness and good sense of the man, and are also good 
examples of his terse, pithy style of composition. He says to 
his helpers : — 

" 1. Be diligent. Never be unemployed for a moment; never 
be triflingly employed. Never while away time ; neither spend 
any more time at any place than is strictly necessary. 

" 2. Be serious. Let your motto be, Holiness to the Lord. 
Avoid all lightness, jesting, and foolish talking. 

"3. Converse sparingly and cautiously with women, particu- 
larly with young women in private. 

"4. Take no step towards marriage without first acquainting 
me with your design. 



GUIDANCE OF HIS HELPERS. 101 

" 5. Believe evil of no one ; unless you see it done, take heed 
how you credit it. Put the best construction on everything : 
you know the judge is always supposed to be on the prisoner's 
side. 

" 6. Speak evil of no one \ else your words especially would 
eat as doth a canker. Keep your thoughts within your own 
breast till you come to the person concerned. 

" 7. Tell every one what you think wrong in him, and that 
plainly, and as soon as may be, else it will fester in your heart. 
Make all haste to cast the fire out of your bosom. 

" 8. Do not affect the gentleman. You have no more to do 
with this character than with that of a dancing-master. A 
preacher of the gospel is the servant of all. 

" 9. Be ashamed of nothing but sin ; not of fetching wood 
(if time permit), or of drawing water ; not of cleaning your own 
shoes, or your neighbour's. 

" 10. Be punctual. Do everything exactly at the time ; and, 
in general, do not mend our rules, but keep them ; not for 
wrath, but for conscience' sake. 

" 11. You have nothing to do but to save souls. Therefore 
spend and be spent in this work. And go always not to those 
who want you, but to those who want you most. 

" 12. Act in all things, not according to your own will, but 
as a son in the gospel. As such, it is your part to employ your 
time in the manner which we direct, partly in preaching and 
visiting the flock from house to house ; partly in reading, medi- 
tation, and prayer. Above all, if you labour with us in the 
Lord's vineyard, it is needful that you should do that part of 
the work which we advise, at those times and places which we 
judge most for his glory." 

Comment on these rules is needless. They speak for them- 
selves. Though originally drawn up with a special view to the 
wants of the Methodist helpers, they contain wisdom for all 
bodies of Christians. Happy would it be for all the churches 



102 ADVICE TO PREACHERS. 

of Christ, if all the ministers of the gospel would carry out the 
spirit of these rules, and remember their wise suggestions far 
more than they do. 

Let us next take an illustration of the manner in which he 
used to advise his preachers individually. To one who was in 
danger of becoming a noisy, clamorous preacher, he writes : — 

" Scream no more at peril of your soul. God now warns 
you by me, whom he has set over you. Speak as earnestly as 
you can, but do not scream. Speak with all your heart, but 
with a moderate voice. It was said of our Lord, ' He shall not 
cry? The word means properly, he shall not scream. Herein 
be a follower of me, as I am of Christ. I often speak loud, 
often vehemently; but I never scream ; I never strain myself; 
I dare not ; I know it would be a sin against God and my own 
soul." 

To one who neglected the duty of private reading and 
regular study, he wrote as follows : — 

" Hence your talent in preaching does not increase ; it is just 
the same as it was seven years ago. It is lively, but not deep ; 
there is little variety ; there is no compass of thought. Read- 
ing only can supply this, with daily meditation and daily prayer. 
You wrong yourself greatly by omitting this ; you never can be 
a deep preacher without it, any more than a thorough Christian. 
Oh begin ! Fix some part of every day for private exercises. 
You may acquire the taste which you have not ; what is tedious 
at first will afterwards be pleasant. Whether you like it or not, 
read and pray daily. It is for your life ! There is no other 
way ; else you will be a trifler all your days, and a pretty super- 
ficial preacher. Do justice to your own soul ; give it time and 
means to grow : do not starve yourself any longer." 

The last specimen of John Wesley's mind that I will give, 
is an extract from a letter which he wrote to the Bishop of 
Lincoln, by way of public protest, on account of the disgraceful 
persecution which some intolerant magistrates carried on 



LETTER TO THE BISHOP OF LINCOLN. 103 

against the Lincolnshire Methodists. It is an interesting letter, 
not only on account of the holy boldness of its style, but also 
on account of the age of the writer. He says : — 

" My Lord, I am a dying man, having already one foot in 
the grave. Humanly speaking, I cannot long creep upon the 
earth, being now nearer ninety than eighty years of age. But 
I cannot die in peace before I have discharged this office of 
Christian love to your Lordship. T write without ceremony, as 
neither hoping nor fearing anything from your Lordship or from 
any man living. And I ask, in the name and in the presence 
of Him, to whom both you and I are shortly to give an account, 
why do you trouble those that are quiet in the land, those that 
fear God and work righteousness % Does your Lordship know 
what the Methodists are — that many thousands of them are 
zealous members of the Church of England, and strongly 
attached, not only to His Majesty, but to his present ministry 1 
Why should your Lordship, setting religion out of the question, 
throw away such a body of respectable friends 1 Is it for their 
religious sentiments ? Alas, my Lord, is this a time to perse- 
cute any man for conscience' sake 1 I beseech you, my Lord, 
do as you would be done to. You are a man of sense ; you 
are a man of learning ; nay, I verily believe (what is of infinitely 
more value), you are a man of piety. Then think, and let 
think. I pray God to bless you with the choicest of his bless- 
ings." 

With this letter I conclude my illustrations of John Wesley's 
mind and its working. It would be easy to add to the extracts 
I have given from the large stock of materials which are still 
within reach of all who choose to look for them. But there is 
such a thing as overloading a subject, and injuring it by over- 
quotation. I believe I have said enough to supply my readers 
with the means of forming a judgment of John Wesley's mental 
calibre. 

Has any one been accustomed to regard the father of 



io4 ESTIMATE OF WESLEY'S MERITS. 

Methodism as a mere fanatic, as a man of moderate abilities 
and superficial education, as a successful popular preacher and 
leader of an ignorant sect, but nothingmore 1 I ask such an 
one to examine carefully the specimens I have given of Wesley's 
mind, and to reconsider his opinion. Whether men like 
Methodist doctrine or not, I think they must honestly concede 
that the old Fellow of Lincoln was a scholar and a sensible 
man. The world, which* always sneers at evangelical religion, 
may please itself by saying that the men who shook England a 
hundred years ago were weak-minded, hot-headed enthusiasts, 
and unlearned and ignorant men. The Jews said the same of 
the apostles in early days. But the world cannot get over facts. 
The founder of Methodism was a man of no mean reputation 
in Oxford, and his writings show him to have been a well-read, 
logical-minded, and intelligent man. Let the children of this 
world deny this if they can. 

Finally, has any one been accustomed to regard Wesley with 
dislike on account of his, Arminian opinions? Is any one in 
the habit of turning away from his name with prejudice, and re- 
fusing to believe that such an imperfect preacher of the gospel 
could do any good 1 I ask such an one to remould his opinion, 
to take a more kindly view of the old soldier of the cross, and 
to give him the honour he deserves. 

What though John Wesley did not use all the weapons- of 
truth which our great Captain has provided 1 What though he 
often said things which you and I feel we could not say, and 
left unsaid things which we feel ought to be said ? Still, not- 
withstanding this, he was a bold fighter on Christ's side, a fear- 
less warrior against sin, the world, and the devil, and an 
unflinching adherent of the Lord Jesus Christ in a very dark 
day. He honoured the Bible. He cried down sin. He made 
much of Christ's blood. He exalted holiness. He taught the 
absolute need of repentance, faith, and conversion. Surely 
these things ought not to be forgotten. Surely there is a deep 



AN INSTRUMENT FOR GOOD. 105 

lesson in those words of our Master, " Forbid him not : for 
there is no man which shall do a miracle in my name, that can 
lightly speak evil of me. For he that is not against us is on 
our part " (Mark ix. 39, 40). 

Then let us thank God for what John Wesley was, and not 
keep poring over his deficiencies, and only talking of what he 
was not. Whether we like it or not, John Wesley was a mighty 
instrument in God's hand for good ; and, next to George White- 
field, was the first and foremost evangelist of England a hundred 
years ago. 




V. 

IHImm (Srimsjjato of Jpatoorfjj, anb jris lltmisirg, 



CHAPTER I. 

Born at Brindle, 1708 — Educated at Christ's College, Cambridge — Ordained, 1731 — Curate 
of Rochdale andTodmorden — Death of his Wife — Minister of Haworth, 1742 — Descrip- 
tion of Haworth — Style of his Ministry — His Manner of Life, Diligence, Charity, Love 
of Peace, Humility — His Ministerial Success. 

HE third spiritual hero of the last century whom I wish 
to introduce to my readers, is one who is very little 
known. The man I mean is William Grimshaw, 
Perpetual Curate of Haworth, in Yorkshire. 

Thousands, I can well believe, are familiar with the history 
of Whitefield and Wesley, who have not so much as heard of 
Grimshaw's name. Yet he was a mighty man of God, of whom 
the Church and the world were not worthy. If greatness is to 
be measured by usefulness to souls, I believe there were not in 
England a hundred years ago three greater men than William 
Grimshaw. 

The reasons why this good man is so little known are soon 
explained. 

For one thing, Grimshaw never withdrew from his position 
as a beneficed clergyman of the Church of England. He lived 
and died incumbent of a Yorkshire parochial district. He 
founded no new sect, and drew up no new articles of faith. He 
found as much liberty as he wanted within the pale of a bene- 



GRIMSHAW' S FIELD OF LABOUR. 107 

ficed clergyman's position, and with that liberty he was content. 
Such a man, in the very nature of things, will rarely emerge 
from comparative obscurity. No zealous partisan will chronicle 
his actions and movements. No persecuted followers will pub- 
lish accounts of his life and opinions. The man who remains 
in the ranks, or behind the intrenchments, will never be so con- 
spicuous as he who carries on a guerilla warfare single-handed, 
or stands forth outside on the plain.* 

For another thing, Grimshaw never went to London, or 
opened his mouth so much as once in a London pulpit. He 
moved in a purely provincial orbit, in days when railways, tele- 
graphs, and penny postage were not even dreamed of. Within 
that orbit, no doubt, he was a star of the first magnitude ; but 
beyond it he was never heard or seen. We need not wonder 
that he was little known in his day and generation. The minister 
who never preaches in London, and writes nothing, must not 
be surprised if the world knows nothing of him. Like some of 
the judges of Israel, he may be great in his own district, but 
some of the tribes will scarcely be acquainted with his name. 

After all, the being famous is a thing that depends greatly on 
position and opportunity. It is not enough to possess gifts 
and powers : there must also be the means of exhibiting them. 
For want of opportunity some of the greatest men perhaps are 
buried in obscurity. There may be great physicians who could 
never find a practice, great lawyers who could never get a brief, 
and great soldiers who never had a chance of distinguishing 
themselves. The main reason why the Church has done so 
little honour to Grimshaw's name may be, that it had so little 
opportunity of knowing him. 

William Grimshaw was born at Brindle, in Lancashire, on the 

* It ought to be remembered that neither Wesley nor Whitefield ever held a living in the 
Church of England. It is, therefore, not correct to speak of them as men who seceded from 
the Church. They resigned no living or official position, simply because they had none to 
resign. They were practically excluded from the pulpits of the Establishment, because the 
clergy as a body refused to admit them. But they never formally separated themselves; 
from the communion in which they had been ordained. 



108 HIS ORDINATION. 

3rd of September 1708. Brindle is an agricultural parish, con- 
taining at present about thirteen hundred people, and lies not 
far from the three manufacturing towns of Preston, Chorley, 
and Blackburn. Nothing whatever is known of the rank and 
position of his parents. Who his mother was, whether he had 
any brothers and sisters, what was his father's occupation and 
employment, are all points which are now veiled in complete 
obscurity. Beyond the fact that one of the churchwardens of 
Brindle in 1728 was a certain William Grimshaw, nothing has 
ever been ascertained.* 

About Grimshaw's early life and education I can tell my 
readers almost nothing. That he went to the Grammar Schools 
of Blackburn and Hesketh, was admitted to Christ's College, 
Cambridge, at the age of eighteen, and in due course of time 
took his degree as Bachelor of Arts, are the only facts that I 
can collect about the first twenty-one years of his life. But his 
character as a boy and young man, and his conduct at school 
and college, are matters about which I cannot supply the slight- 
est information, because none exists. There are, however, no 
grounds for supposing that he spent his time at all better than 
other young men of his day, or that he evinced any concern 
about religion. 

In the year 1731 Grimshaw was ordained deacon, and entered 
holy orders as curate of Rochdale. He seems to have taken 
on him this solemn office without any spiritual feeling, and in 
utter ignorance of the duties of a minister of Christ's gospel. 
Like too many young clergymen, he appears to have been 
ordained without knowing anything aright either about his own 
soul, or about the way to do good to the souls of others. In 
fact, in after-life he deeply lamented that he sought ordination 
from the lowest and most unworthy of motives — the desire to 

* I think it right to say, that almost the only accessible source of information abou! 
Grimshaw is a biography of him lately published by Mr. Spence Hardy. It is an interesting | 
volume, and well worth reading, though the author's predilections in favour of Methodism 
are rather too manifest. 



BECOMES CURATE OF TODMORDEN, 109 

be in a respectable profession, and, if possible, to get a good 
living. 

Grimshaw's stay at Rochdale, for some reason which we can- 
not now explain, was a very short one. In September 1731, 
the very year that he was ordained, he became curate of Tod- 
morden, and left Rochdale entirely. Todmorden lies in a 
romantic valley between Rochdale and Leeds, well known to 
all who travel by the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway. Before 
the steam-engine was invented, it must have been a singularly 
beautiful place. Ecclesiastically, it is a chapelry in the patron- 
age of the Vicar of Rochdale, and stands partly in the great 
parish of Rochdale and partly in the equally large parish of 
Halifax. Here Grimshaw continued for no less than eleven 
years. 

The eleven years during which Grimshaw resided at Tod- 
morden were, beyond doubt, the turning-point in his spiritual 
history. It is much to be regretted that we possess nothing but 
the most scanty information about this period of his life. 
Enough, however, exists to throw some light on the way 
through which he was led to become the man of God that he 
was in after-days. 

It appears then, according to Middleton, one of his bio- 
graphers, that about the year 1734, three years after he came 
to Todmorden, Grimshaw began for the first time to feel deep 
concern about his own soul, and the souls of his parishioners. 
A change came over his life and outward behaviour. He laid 
aside the diversions in which he had hitherto spent the greater 
part of his time — such as hunting, fishing, card-playing, revel- 
ling, and merry-making — and began to visit his people, and 
press on them the importance of religion, like one who really 
believed it. At the same time he commenced the practice of 
praying in secret four times a-day, a practice which there is 
reason to believe he never left off. 

There is nothing to show that his views of Christianity at 



I IO DEA TH OF HIS WIFE. 

this period were any but the most dark and obscure. Of the 
distinctive doctrines of the gospel, of salvation by grace, justifi- 
cation by faith, free pardon through Christ's blood, and the 
converting power of the Holy Ghost, he probably knew nothing 
at all. He had none but books of a very legal character, most 
of them given by Dr. Dunster, Vicar of Rochdale, when he was 
his curate. He had no friend to deal with him, as Peter did 
with Cornelius, or Aquila and Priscilla did with Apollos, and 
" show him the way of God more perfectly." But he was 
honest in seeking light, and light came, though not immediately. 
He prayed much, like Saul in the house of Judas at Damascus, 
and after many days his prayer was heard. He used such 
means as he had, and in so using means God met him and 
helped him. He had a sincere desire to do God's will, and the 
promise of the Lord Jesus was verified, " He shall know of the 
doctrine whether it be of God" (John vii. 17). 

The struggle between light and darkness in Grimshaw's mind 
appears to have continued several years. Long as this delay 
may seem to us, we must not forget that he was entirely without 
help from man, and had to work out every spiritual problem 
unassisted and alone. But though the work within him went 
on slowly, it went on solidly and surely. The illness and death 
of his first wife, leaving him a desolate widower with two chil- 
dren, after four years of married life, appears to have been a 
powerful means of drawing him nearer to God. The perusal 
of two most valuable Puritan books, "Brooks' Precious Remedies 
against Satan's Devices," and " Owen on Justification," seems 
to have been extremely helpful and establishing to his soul. 
And the final result was, that after several years of severe con- 
flict, Grimshaw no longer "walked in darkness, but had the 
full light of life" (John viii. 12). The scales completely fell 
from his eyes. He saw and knew the whole truth, and the 
truth made him free. He left Todmorden a far wiser and hap- 
pier man than he entered it. Hard as the schooling was, he 



THE BLIND LEADING THE BLIND. Ill 

there learned lessons which he never forgot to his life's end. 
Few men, perhaps, have ever so thoroughly verified the truth of 
Luther's saying, " Prayer and temptation, the Bible and medi- 
tation, make a true minister of the gospel." 

Grimshaw's testimony to the power of the Scriptures at this 
crisis in his spiritual history, is very striking and instructive. 
Like many others, he found the Bible almost a new book to 
his mind. Up to this time he had known it only in the letter, 
but now he became acquainted with it in its spiritual power. 
He afterwards told a friend that " if God had drawn up his 
Bible to heaven, and sent him down another, it could not 
have been newer to him." So true is it that when man be- 
comes a new creature " old things pass away and all things 
become new." 

Grimshaw's people at Todmorden soon found that a change 
had come over their minister's mind. In the middle of his 
spiritual conflict, and before he had found peace, it is related 
that a poor woman came to him in great distress of soul, and 
asked him what she must do. He could only say, " I cannot 
tell what to say to you, Susan, for I am in the same state my- 
self; but to despair of the mercy of God would be worse than 
all." Another woman, named Mary Scholefield, of Calf Lees, 
had sought his advice in the beginning of his ministry, and got 
the following answer : " Put away these gloomy thoughts. Go 
into merry company. Divert yourself; and all will be well at 
last." At a later period he went to her house and said, " O 
Mary, what a blind leader of the blind was I, when I came to 
take off thy burden by exhorting thee to live in pleasure, and 
to follow the vain amusements of the world ! " Incidents like 
these, we may be sure, would soon be known throughout Tod- 
morden. True conversion, like the presence of Christ, is a 
thing that cannot be hid. 

It would indeed be interesting if we had any authentic 
records of Grimshaw's history during these momentous eleven 



r 1 2 A PPOINTED MINIS TER OF HA WOR TH. 

years at Todmorden. But God has thought fit to withhold 
them from us. It is certainly very curious that without the 
least concert with the other great evangelists who were his 
contemporaries, he should have arrived at the same doctrinal 
conclusions and taken up the same line of action. But it is 
an established fact, and well ascertained, that all the time he 
was at Todmorden he was an entire stranger to Whitefield and 
Wesley, and never read a line of their writings. It is no less 
curious to observe how God was pleased to wean him from the 
love of worldly things, by taking away his beloved wife, whose 
loss he seems to have felt most keenly. But the well-instructed 
Christian will see in all this part of his history the hand of 
perfect wisdom. The tools that the great Architect intends to 
use much, are often kept long in the fire, to temper them and 
fit them for work. The discipline that Grimshaw went through 
at Todmorden was doubtless very severe. But the lessons he 
learned under it could probably have been learned in no other 
school. 

In the month of May 1742, Grimshaw was appointed 
minister of Haworth in Yorkshire, and remained there twenty- 
one years, until his death. How and by what interest he got 
the appointment, we do not know. At the present time, 
the patronage is in the hands of the Vicar of Bradford and 
certain trustees. It is not unlikely that his first wife's family 
had something to do with it.* Haworth is a chapelry in the 
parish of Bradford, and about four miles from the town of 
Keighley. It stands in a cold, desolate, bleak moorland 
country, on the hills which divide Yorkshire from Lancashire, 
and, running down from the Lake district to the peak of 
Derbyshire, form the "backbone" of England. None but 
those who have travelled from Manchester to Leeds by the 
Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, or from Manchester to 

* Haworth is best known at present as the birth-place and residence of the unhappy 
Charlotte Bronte, whose father was incumbent of the place. 



DESCRIPTION OF HA IVOR TH. 1 1 3 

Huddersfield by the London and North-Western, or from 
Manchester to Sheffield by the Great Northern line, can have 
any adequate idea of the rugged, weather-beaten, mountainous 
character of this district. Its valleys are beautiful, highly 
cultivated, and teeming with life and manufacturing activity. 
But the upper parts of the country are often as wild, and steep, 
and uncultivated, and unapproachable, as a Highland moor. 
At the top of one of the roughest parts of the mountain dis- 
trict lies the village of Haworth, the principal scene of Grim- 
shaw's ministerial labour. 

Haworth a hundred years ago was perhaps as rough and un- 
civilized a place as a minister could go to. Even Doomsday- 
Book specially describes it as " desolate and waste." It is a 
long narrow village, built of brown stone, approached by a 
steep ascent from Keighley or Hebden bridge. The street is 
so steep that one can understand it must have been only 
recently that wheeled carriages went there. Indeed, there is a 
legend that when the first carriage came to Haworth the 
villagers brought out hay to feed it, under the idea that it was 
an animal ! Such was the parish in which Grimshaw set up 
the standard of the cross. A less promising field can hardly 
be imagined. 

Grimshaw. began his work at Haworth after a manner very 
different from his beginning at Todmorden. He commenced 
preaching to his wild and rough parishioners the gospel of 
Christ in the plainest and most familiar manner, and followed 
up his preaching by house to house visitation. His preaching 
was not confined to the walls of the church. Wherever he 
could get people together, whether in a room, a barn, a field, a 
quarry, or by the roadside, he was ready to preach. His visit- 
ing was not a mere going from family to family to gossip about 
temporal matters, sickness, and children. Wherever he went 
he took his Master with him, and spoke plainly to people about 
their souls. In this kind of work his whole life was spent at 



H4 GRIMSHA W'S MODE OF A CTION. 

Haworth. Preaching publicly and privately repentance to- 
ward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ, after the 
manner of St. Paul, was his one employment throughout the 
whole twenty-one years of his ministry. He himself describes 
his mode of action in the following letter : — 

" The method which I, the least and most unworthy of my 
Lord's ministers, take in my parish, is this : I preach the gospel 
— glad tidings of salvation to penitent sinners through faith in 
Christ's blood only — twice every Sunday the year round, save 
when I expound the Church Catechism and thirty-nine articles, 
or read the Homilies, which in substance I think my duty to 
do in some part of the year annually, on the Lord's day morn- 
ings. I have found this practice, I bless God, of inexpressible 
benefit to my congregation, which consists, especially in the 
summer season, of perhaps ten or twelve hundred souls, or, as 
some think, many more. We have also prayer, and a chapter 
expounded every Lord's Day evening. I visit my parish in 
twelve several places monthly, convening six, eight, or ten 
families in each place, allowing any people of the neighbouring 
parishes that please to attend the exhortation. This I call my 
monthly visitation. I am now entering into the fifth year of it, 
and wonderfully has the Lord blessed it. The only thing more 
are our funeral expositions and exhortations, and visiting our 
societies in one or other of the three last days of the month. 
This I purpose, through the grace of God, to make my con- 
stant business in my parish so long as I live." 

In carrying on this kind of work, Grimshaw gladly availed 
himself of every help that he could obtain from like-minded 
men. He became acquainted with John Nelson, the famous 
Yorkshire stone-mason, one of the most remarkable lay- 
preachers whom Wesley sent forth, and frequently received 
him at Haworth. He welcomed those few clergymen who 
were of one heart with himself, and seized every opportunity of 
getting them to preach to his people. Whiteneld, the two 



EFFECT OF HIS MINIS TR Y. 1 1 5 

Wesleys, Romaine, and Venn, were among those whom he 
was only too glad to place in his pulpit. On such occasions it 
was no uncommon thing to leave the church and preach in 
the churchyard, in order to meet the convenience of the 
crowds who came together. When *the Lord's Supper was 
administered at such seasons, it was sometimes necessary for 
the first congregation of communicants to retire from the 
church and give way to others, until all had partaken of the 
ordinance. In one instance, when Whitefield was present, the 
numbers who came to the Lord's Table were so great that no 
less than thirty-five bottles of wine were used ! 

The effect produced by this new and fervent style of minis- 
tration, as might well be expected, was very great indeed. An 
interest about religion was aroused throughout the whole dis- 
trict round Haworth, and multitudes began to think who had 
never thought before. Grimshaw himself says, in a letter to 
Dr. Gillies, author of the "Historical Collections:" "Souls 
were affected by the word, brought to see their lost estate by 
nature, and to experience peace through faith in the blood of 
Jesus. My church began to be crowded, insomuch that many 
were obliged to stand out of doors. Here, as in many places, 
it was amazing to see and hear what weeping, roaring, and 
agony, many people were seized with, at the apprehension of 
their sinful state and wrath of God. After a season I joined 
people, such as were truly seeking, or had found the Lord, in 
society, for meetings and exercises. These meetings are held 
once a week, about two hours, and are called classes, consist- 
ing of about ten or twelve members each. We have much of 
the Lord's presence among them, and greatly in consequence 
must such meetings conduce to Christian edification." 

The style of preaching which Grimshaw adopted was pecu- 
liarly well suited to the rough and uneducated population with 
which he had to do. He was eminently a plain preacher. His 
first aim undoubtedly was to preach the whole truth as it is in 



1 1 6 HIS STYIE OF PRE A CHING. 

Jesus ; his second was to preach so as to be understood. To 
accomplish this end he was willing to make many sacrifices, to 
crucify his natural taste as an educated clergyman who had been 
at Cambridge, and to be thought a fool by intellectual men. 
But he cared nothing so long as he could succeed in reaching 
the hearts and consciences of his hearers. John Newton, who 
knew him well, has left some remarks on this characteristic of 
Grimshaw's preaching which are well worth reading. He says : 
" The desire of usefulness to persons of the weakest capacity, 
or most destitute of the advantages of education, influenced his 
phraseology in preaching. Though his abilities as a speaker, 
and his fund of general knowledge, rendered him very compe- 
tent to stand before great men, yet, as his stated hearers were 
chiefly of the poorer and more unlettered classes, he con- 
descended to accommodate himself, in the most familiar man- 
ner, to their ideas, and to their modes of expression. Like the 
apostles, he disdained that elegance and excellence of speech 
which is admired by those who seek entertainment perhaps not 
less than instruction from the pulpit. He rather chose to deliver 
his sentiments in what he used to term ' market language. ' And 
though the warmth of his heart and the rapidity of his imagina- 
tion might sometimes lead him to clothe his thoughts in w T ords 
which even a candid critic could not justify, yet the general 
effect of his plain manner was striking and impressive, suited to 
make the dullest understand, and to fix for a time the attention 
of the most careless. Frequently a sentence which a delicate 
hearer might judge quaint or vulgar, conveyed an important 
truth to the ear, and fixed it on the memory for years after the 
rest of the sermon and the general subject were forgotten. 
Judicious hearers could easily excuse some escapes of this 
kind, and allow that, though he had a singular felicity in bring- 
ing down the great truths of the gospel to a level with the 
meanest capacity, he did not degrade them. The solemnity of 
his manner, the energy with which he spoke, the spirit of love 



HIS EARNESTNESS OF MANNER. 1 17 

which beamed in his eyes and breathed through his addresses, 
were convincing proofs that he did not trifle with his people. I 
may give my judgment on this point, something in his own way, 
by quoting a plain and homely proverb which says, ' That is 
the best cat which catches the most mice. ' His improprieties, 
if he was justly chargeable with any, are very easily avoided ; 
but few ministers have had equal success. But if his language 
was more especially suited to the taste of his unpolished rustic 
hearers, his subject-matter was calculated to affect the hearts of 
all, whether high or low, rich or poor, learned or ignorant ; and 
they who refused to believe were often compelled to tremble. " 

The manner in which he conducted public worship at 
Haworth seems to have been as remarkable as his preaching. 
There was a life, and fire, and reality, and earnestness about it, 
which made it seem a totally different thing from what it was in 
other churches. The Prayer-Book seemed like a new book ; 
and the reading-desk was almost as arresting to the congrega- 
tion as the pulpit. Middleton, in his life of him, says : " In per- 
formance of divine service, and especially at the communion, he 
was at times like a man with his feet on earth and his soul in 
neaven. In prayer, before sermon, he would indeed l take hold 
(as he used to say) of the very horns of the altar,' which, he 
added, 'he could not, he would not, let go till God had given 
the blessing.' And his fervency often was such, and attended 
with such heartfelt and melting expressions, that scarcely a dry 
eye was to be seen in his numerous congregation." 

The life which Grimshaw lived appears, by the testimony of 
all his contemporaries, to have been as remarkable as his 
preaching. In the highest sense he seems to have adorned the 
doctrine of the gospel, and to have made it beautiful in the eyes 
of all around him. He was not like some of whom the bitter 
remark has been made, that when they are in the pulpit it is a 
pity they ever get out of it, and when out of it, a pity that they 
should ever get in. The same Christ that he preached in the 



Ii8 HIS CHARITY AND HUMILITY. 

pulpit was the Christ that he endeavoured to follow in his daily 
life. 

He was a man of rare diligence and self-denial. None ever 
worked harder than he did in his calling, and few worked so 
hard. He seldom preached less than twenty, and often nearly 
thirty times in a week. In doing this he would constantly 
travel scores of miles, content with the humblest fare and the 
roughest accommodation. 

He was a man of rare charity and brotherly love. He loved 
all who loved Christ, by whatever name they might be called, 
and he was kind to every one in temporal as well as spiritual 
things. "In fact," says Middleton, "his charity knew no 
bound but his circumstances. As his grace and faithfulness 
rendered him useful to all, so his benevolent liberality particu- 
larly endeared him to the poor. He frequently used to say, ' If 
I shall die to-day I have not a penny to leave behind me. ' 
And yet he did not quit the world in debt, for he had prudence 
as well as grace." 

He was pre-eminently a peacemaker. " The animosities and 
differences of men," says Middleton, "afforded his affectionate 
spirit nothing but pain. No labour was too great or too long if 
their reconciliation might be his reward. When he has met with 
cases of uncommon perseverance or obduracy, he has been 
known to fall on his knees before them, beseeching them, for 
Christ's sake, to love one another, and offering to let them 
tread on his neck if they would only be at peace among them- 
selves." 

He was, above all, a man of rare humility. Few gifted men, 
perhaps, ever thought so meanly of themselves, or were so truly 
ready in honour to prefer others. " What have we to boast of?" 
he said. " What have we that we have not received 1 Freely 
by grace we are saved. When I die I shall then have my 
greatest grief and my greatest joy, — my greatest grief that I 
have done so little for Jesus, and my greatest joy that Jesus has 



HIS MINISTERIAL SUCCESS. 119 

done so much for me. My last words shall be, Here goes an 
unprofitable servant!" 

That such a man as Grimshaw should soon obtain immense 
influence in Haworth is nothing more than we might expect. 
Preaching as he did and living as he did, we can well under- 
stand that he produced a mighty impression on his wild parish- 
ioners. Sin was checked, Sabbath-breaking became unfashion- 
able, immorality was greatly restrained. Like John the Baptist 
in the wilderness, he shook the little corner of Yorkshire where 
he was placed, and stirred men's minds to the very bottom. 
Hundreds learned to fear hell who did not really love heaven. 
Scores were restrained from sin though they were not converted 
to God. 

But this was not all^ There can be no doubt that Grimshaw 
was the means of true conversion to many souls. Year after 
year the Holy Ghost applied his sermons to the hearts and con- 
sciences of not a few of his hearers, and added to the true 
Church of Christ such as should be saved. In one single year, 
after burying eighteen persons, he said that " he had great 
reason to believe that sixteen of them were entered into the 
kingdom of God. " 

" Not long before his death, " says one of his biographers, 
"he stood with the Rev. John Newton upon a hill near 
Haworth surveying the romantic prospect. He then said that 
at the time he first came into that part of the country he might 
have gone half a day's journey on horseback toward the east, 
west, north, and south, without meeting one truly serious person, 
or even hearing of one. But now, through the blessing of God 
upon his labours, he could tell of several hundreds of persons 
who attended his ministry, and were devout communicants with 
him at the Lord's Table ; and of nearly all the last-named he 
could say that he was as well acquainted with their several 
temptations, trials, and mercies, both personal and domestic, as 
if he had lived in their families." 



I z o BECOMES AN E VANGELIST. 

The extra-parochial labours which Grimshaw undertook, and 
the persecutions which they entailed upon him, his early death, 
and some account of his few literary remains, are subjects of so 
much interest that I must defer them to another chapter. 



CHAPTER II. 






Extra-Parochial Labour in Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Cheshire — The Nature of this 
Labour Explained and Defended — Persecution at Colne — The Archbishop of York's 
Visit to Haworth — His Love to the Articles and Homilies — His Last Illness, Dying 
Sayings, Death, and Funeral. 

The religious condition of England a hundred years ago was 
so deplorably bad, that a man like Grimshaw was not likely to 
confine his labours to his own parish. Led by the force 
of circumstances, he soon began to preach outside his pa- 
rochial boundaries, and finally " did the work of an evan- 
gelist" throughout the whole region within fifty miles of 
Haworth. 

The circumstances which led Grimshaw into this course of 
action are soon explained. Hundreds of his regular hearers at 
Haworth were not his parishioners, and came together from 
distant places. Once taught of God to know the value of the 
gospel, they went out of their own parishes to get the spiritual 
food which they could not find at home. It was only natural 
that these people should feel for their families and neighbours, 
and desire that they might hear what had done good to them- 
selves. They asked Grimshaw to come and preach at their 
houses, and represented to him the ignorance and spiritual 
destitution of all around their own homes. They entreated him 
to come and tell their friends and relatives the same things he 
was every week telling his congregation at Haworth. They 
told him that souls were perishing for lack of knowledge, un- 
shepherded, uncared for, and untaught, and promised him a 
hearty welcome if he would " come over" his parish boundaries 



VISITS THE AD J A CENT CO UNTR Y. 1 2 1 

and "help" them. Appeals like these, we can well believe, 
were not made in vain. In a short time these extra-parochial 
labours became a regular and systematic business. The voice 
of the incumbent of Haworth was soon heard in many other 
places beside his parish-church, and for many years he was 
known throughout Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cheshire, and North 
Derbyshire, as the apostle and preacher of the district. 

It would be interesting to name all the places which Grim- 
shaw was in the habit of visiting as an evangelist, but it is 
impossible to do so. No accurate record remains of the extent 
of his labours, and he left no journal behind him. It is known, 
however, that in Yorkshire he used to preach at Leeds, Halifax, 
Bradford, Manningham, Todmorden, Birstal, Keighley, Otley, 
Bingley, Bramley, Heptonstall, Luddenden, and Osmotherley. 
In Lancashire, he used to visit Manchester, Bolton, Rochdale, 
Colne, Padiham, Holme, Bacop, and Rossendale. In Cheshire, 
we find him at Stockport, Tarvin, and Rostherne f and in Derby- 
shire at Mellor. These places are probably not a tenth part of 
those he visited, but they are places specially mentioned by his 
biographers. 

In all these places the people who valued such preaching as 
Grimshaw's were banded together in societies, and generally 
under the direction of one man. The incumbent of a large 
parish like Haworth, of course, could only leave his own work 
for a short time, and visit distant preaching-stations at long 
intervals. Between his visits, the societies were necessarily left 
very much to themselves and their local leaders. Conference 
with these leaders, receiving reports from them of the spiritual 
condition of the societies, and arranging with them for break- 
ing up new ground as well as keeping old ground in cultivation, 
made no small part of Grimshaw's extra-parochial work. To 
these leaders of societies was left the provision of rooms, or 
barns, or convenient fields for preaching, and the collection of 
money to defray expenses. Thus, when the incumbent of 



122 ANECDOTE OF ALICE CROSS. 

Haworth, or. some like-minded friend, paid his periodical visit, 
he had nothing to do but to preach. 

The managers or leaders of these societies, scattered about 
Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Cheshire, were seldom above the 
middle class, and frequently no more than intelligent small 
farmers. There is no evidence that Grimshaw's ministry ever had 
much effect upon the upper ranks, or indeed was ever brought 
to bear upon them. But none but an ignorant man will ever 
think the worse of it on that account. To get hold of the lower 
middle and lower classes of society, and enlist them in the ser- 
vice of Christ, is at this day one of the greatest problems the 
Churches have to solve. If Grimshaw succeeded in doing this, 
it is enough to prove that he was no common man. A church is 
never in so healthy a state as it is when " the common people 
hear gladly. " 

Let the following extract from Hardy's ""Life of Grimshaw" 
supply an instance of the sort of people that Grimshaw got hold 
of in his itinerant labours outside his own parish : — " At Booth 
Bank, in the parish of Rostherne, Cheshire, Grimshaw's services 
used to be held in the house of John and Alice Cross. Alice was 
a woman of great spirit and intrepidity, and a heroine in Christ's 
service. Her husband was a quiet sober man, but for some 
time after her conversion he remained in his old ways. When 
going out to worship, with her straw hat in one hand and the 
door-latch in the other, she would say to him, 'John Cross, wilt 
thou go to heaven with me % If thou wilt not, I am determined 
not to go to hell with thee !' John yielded at last; a pulpit 
was fixed in the largest room of their house at Rostherne, and 
the messengers of God were made welcome to their fare and 
farm. When beggars came to the door she told them of the 
riches that are in Christ Jesus, and, kneeling by their side, com- 
mended them to the grace of God, and then sent them away, grate- 
ful for her charity, and impressed by her earnestness in seeking 
their souls' good. Nor were the more honourable of the land 



GRIMSHA WS LABOURS DEFENDED. 123 

beyond the reach of her reproofs. On one occasion she stopped 
the Cheshire hunt, when passing her house, and addressed the 
horsemen, especially Lord Stamford and Sir Harry Main- 
waring, who listened to her warning and rode on. When the 
expected preacher did not come, though the pulpit was not 
occupied, the congregation did not go empty away. Alice 
Cross herself, in her simple and earnest way, dealt out the 
bread of life. " Such were the kind of households that Grim- 
shaw used to make centres of operation in his extra-parochial 
evangelism. Such were the kind of people who valued his 
labours, welcomed his visits, and proved the value of his preach- 
ing, in the district within fifty miles of Haworth. 

No doubt these extra-parochial labours of Grimshaw will 
appear wrong to many in the present day. Many are such 
excessive lovers of parochial order that they feel scandalized at 
the idea of an incumbent preaching in other men's parishes. 
Such people would do well to remember the condition of 
England in Grimshaw's times. There were scores and hundreds 
of parishes all over the north of England in which there was no 
resident clergyman ; and the services of the Church, even when 
performed, were cold, brief, and utterly unprofitable. To tell 
us that Grimshaw ought to have left the inhabitants of these 
parishes to perish in ignorance rather than commit a breach of 
parochial order, is simply ridiculous. Men might as well tell 
us that we must not knock at a person's door and awaken him, 
when his house is on fire, because we have not the honour of 
his acquaintance ! The parochial system of the Church of 
England was designed for the good of men's souls. It was 
never intended to ruin souls by cutting them off from the sound 
of the gospel. 

The thing that is really wonderful, in the history of Grim- 
shaw's extra-parochial labours, is the non-interference of eccle- 
siastical authorities. How the incumbent of Haworth can 
have gone on for fifteen or twenty years preaching all over 



124 "MAD GRIMSHAW." 

Lancashire, Yorkshire, and Cheshire, without being stopped by 
bishops and archdeacons, is very hard to understand ! Let us 
charitably hope that many felt in their secret hearts that some 
such evangelism as his was absolutely needed. The enor- 
mous size of such parishes as Bradford and Halifax in York- 
shire — as Whalley, Rochdale, and Prestwich, in Lancashire — as 
Stockport, Astbury, and Prestbury, in Cheshire, made it utterly 
impossible for the clergymen of the mother-churches to provide 
means of grace for their parishioners. We may well believe, 
that to arrest such labours as Grimshaw's in these unwieldy 
parishes would have been so unwise, that even bishops and 
archdeacons of the last century shrank from attempting it. Be 
the cause what it may, it is a most curious fact that Grimshaw 
was never entirely stopped in his extra-parochial ministry. The 
hand of the Lord was with him, and he carried on his itinerant 
work, as well as his regular services at Haworth, up to his 
death. 

But though Grimshaw was never actually stopped, we must 
not suppose that he escaped persecution. The prince of this 
world will never willingly part with any of his subjects. He 
will stir up opposition against any one who tries to pull down 
his kingdom. The incumbent of Haworth was often obliged to 
face abuse and personal violence of a kind that we can hardly 
imagine in the present day. " Mad Grimshaw" was the name 
given to him by many throughout the district in which he 
laboured. None opposed him more than some of the clergy. 
With the true dog-in-the-manger spirit, they neither did good 
themselves nor liked any one else to do it for them. 

The most violent of Grimshaw's opponents was the Rev. George 
White, perpetual curate of Colne and Marsden, in Lanca- 
shire. This worthy commenced his attack by publishing a sermon 
against the Methodists, preached at his two churches in August 
1748. In this sermon he charged Grimshaw and all his fellow- 
labourers with being " authors of confusion ; open destroyers of 



PERSECUTION A T COLNE. 1 25 

the public peace ; flying in the face of the very Church they 
craftily pretend to follow ; occasioning many bold insurrections, 
which threaten our spiritual government ; schismatical rebels 
against the best of Churches ; authors of a further breach in our 
unhappy divisions ; contemners of the great command, ' Six 
days shalt thou labour ;' defiers of all laws, civil and ecclesias- 
tical ; professed disrespecters of learning and education ; causing 
a visible ruin of trade and manufactures ; and, in short, promo- 
ters of a shameful progress of enthusiasm and confusion not to 
be paralleled in any other Christian dominion." 

Not content with preaching this stuff and nonsense, White 
proceeded to stir up a mob to stop the preaching of Grimshaw 
and his companions by force and violence. He actually issued 
a proclamation, in order to collect a mob, in the following 
words : " Notice is hereby given, that if any men be mindful to 
enlist into His Majesty's service, under the command of the 
Rev. George White, commander-in-chief, and John Banister, 
lieutenant-general of His Majesty's forces, for the defence of the 
Church of England, and the support of the manufactures in and 
about Colne, both which are now in danger, let them now repair 
to the cross, when each man shall have a pint of ale for advance, 
and other proper encouragements." 

The consequence of this outrageous proclamation was just 
what might have been expected. " Lewd fellows of the baser 
sort" are always ready to make a riot against religion, as they 
were in the days of St. Paul. When Grimshaw and John 
Wesley went to Colne to preach, on the 24th of August 1748, 
they were attacked by an overwhelming mob of drunken people 
armed with clubs, and dragged before White like thieves and 
malefactors. After a vain endeavour to extort a promise from 
them that they would desist from coming to preach at Colne, 
they were allowed to leave the house. As soon as they got 
outside, " the mob closed in upon them, and tossed them about 
with great violence, throwing Grimshaw down, and covering 



126 REPLY TO WHITE'S SERMON. 

both of them with mire, there being no one to come to their 
rescue. The people who had assembled to hear the word of 
God were treated with even greater cruelty. They had to run 
for their lives, amidst showers of dirt and stones, and no regard 
was paid to either sex or age. Some were trampled in the mire ; 
others dragged by the hair ; and many were unmercifully beaten 
with clubs. One was forced to leap from a rock, ten or twelve 
feet high, into the river, to prevent being thrown in headlong. 
When he crawled out, wet and bruised, they swore they would 
throw him in again, and were with difficulty prevented from 
executing their threat. White, well-pleased, was watching his 
mad followers all this time without a word to stay them. "* 

None of these things moved the lion-hearted incumbent of 
Haworth. Not long afterwards he went to Colne again, and 
was again shamefully treated — pelted with mud and dirt, and 
dragged violently along the road. In the following year, 1749, 
he published a long reply to White's sermon, extending to 
eighty-six pages, in which he powerfully and triumphantly re- 
futed White's charges. t 

Persecution of this rough kind was not the only hard measure 
that Grimshaw had to undergo in consequence of his extra-pa- 
rochial evangelism. He was more than once called to account 
for his conduct by the Archbishop of York, and seems to have 
escaped suspension or deprivation in a most marvellous manner. 

On one occasion " a charge was preferred against him for 
having preached in a licensed meeting-house at Leeds. Had 
proof been forthcoming to substantiate the charge, he would 
have been dismissed from his cure for irregularity. Though no 

* See Hardy's " Life of Grimshaw," p. 82. 

1 White must have been a very extreme specimen of the careless, worthless clergyman 
of the last century. He was educated at Douay College for the Romish priesthood, and 
after his recantation was recommended for preferment to the vicar of Whalley, by Arch- 
bishop Potter. He frequently abandoned his parish for weeks together ; and, on one occa- 
sion, is said to have read the funeral-service more than twenty times in a single night over 
the dead bodies that had been buried in his absence ! He died at Langroyd in 1751 ; and 
it is pleasant to record, that he is said to have sent for Grimshaw on his death-bed, ani 
expressed his sorrow for the part he took in the riotous proceedings above described. 



CALLED TO A CCO UNT B Y THE ARCHBLSHOP. 1 2 7 

act of delinquency was proved, he was obliged to promise the 
archbishop that he would not preach in any place that had been 
licensed for the worship of dissenters ; while he repeated his 
determination to continue preaching abroad so long as there 
were souls for whom no one seemed to care. On another occasion, 
when accused of preaching out of his own parish, he was asked 
by the archbishop, ' How many communicants had you when 
you first came to Haworth V He answered, ' Twelve, my lord. ' 
' How many have you now V was the next question. The reply 
was, ' In the winter, from three to four hundred ; and in the 
summer, near twelve hundred.' On hearing this the arch- 
bishop expressed his approbation, and said, ' We cannot find 
fault with Mr. Grimshaw when he is instrumental in bringing so 
many persons to the Lord's Table. ' "* 

On another occasion, " when complaint was made to the 
archbishop of his ramblings and intrusions into other men's 
folds, the archbishop announced his intention to hold a confir- 
mation-service in Mr. Grimshaw's church, and to have an inter- 
view with him on the occasion. On the day appointed they 
met in Haworth vestry, and while the clergy and laity were 
assembling in great numbers, the following conversation took 
place : ' I have heard, ' said the archbishop, ' many extraordi- 
nary reports respecting your conduct, Mr. Grimshaw. It has 
been stated to me that you not only preach in private houses 
in your parish, but also travel up and down, and preach where 
you have a mind, without consulting your diocesan or the clergy 
into whose parishes you obtrude your labours ; and that your 
discourses are very loose ; that, in fact, you can and do preach 
about anything. That I may be able to judge for myself, both 
of your doctrine and manner of stating it, I give you notice that 
I shall expect you to preach before me and the clergy present 
in two hours hence, and from the text which I am about to 
name.' After repeating the text, the archbishop added : 'Sir, 

* Hardy's " Life of Grimshaw," p. 232. 



1 28 EFFECT OF G RIMS HA W'S SERMON. 

you may now retire, and make what preparation you can while 
I confirm the young people. ' — ' My lord, ' said Grimshaw, 
looking out of the vestry-door into the church, ' see what multi- 
tudes of people are here ! Why should the order of the service 
be reversed, and the congregation kept out of the sermon for 
two hours'?* Send a clergyman to read prayers, and I will 
begin immediately. ' After prayers Mr. Grimshaw ascended the 
pulpit, and began an extempore prayer for the archbishop, the 
people, and the young persons about to be confirmed, and 
wrestled with God for his assistance and blessing, until the 
congregation, the clergy, and the archbishop himself, were 
moved to tears. After the service was over, the clergy gathered 
round the archbishop to ascertain what proceedings he intended 
to adopt in order to restrain the preacher from such rash and ex- 
temporaneous expositions of God's Word. To their surprise the 
archbishop, taking Mr. Grimshaw by the hand, said with a 
tremulous voice, ' I would to God that all the clergy in my 
diocese were like this good man !' Mr. Grimshaw afterwards 
observed to a party of friends who came to take tea with him 
that evening, ' I did expect to be turned out of my parish on 
this occasion ; but if I had been I would have joined my friend 
John Wesley, taken my saddle-bags and gone to one of his 
poorest circuits. ' "t 

It is impossible to turn from this part of Grimshaw's history 
without feelings of righteous indignation. There is something 
revolting in the idea of a holy and zealous minister of the 
Church of England being persecuted for overstepping the bounds 
of ecclesiastical etiquette, while hundreds of clergymen were let 
alone and undisturbed whose lives and doctrine were beneath 
contempt. All over England country livings were often filled 
by hunting, shooting, gambling, drinking, card-playing, swear- 



* It is evident that the confirmation described in this story must have been held on a 
Sunday. 

t From Strachan's " Life of Rev. G. Lowe," a Methodist minister. 



HIS LOVE TO THE ARTICLES AND HOMILIES. 129 

ing, ignorant clergymen, who cared neither for law nor gospel, 
and utterly neglected their parishes. When they did preach, 
they either preached to empty benches, or else " the hungry 
sheep looked up and were not fed.|" And yet these men lived 
under their own vines and fig-trees enjoying great quietness, 
untouched by bishops, eating the fat of the land, and calling 
themselves the true supporters of the Church ! But the moment 
a man rose up like Grimshaw, who gloried in the Articles, 
Liturgy, and Homilies, and preached the Gospel, he was treated 
like a felon and malefactor, and his name cast out as evil ! 
Truly God's patience with the Church of England a hundred 
years ago was something marvellous. Marvellous that he did 
not remove our candlestick altogether ! Marvellous that he 
granted her such a revival, and raised up so many burning and 
shining lights amongst her ministers ! 

To talk of Grimshaw being no Churchman and being an 
enemy to the Church of England, is preposterous and absurd. 
If attachment to the standards and formularies of his own 
communion is a mark of Churchmanship, he was a Churchman 
in the truest sense. No doubt he loved all who loved Jesus 
Christ in sincerity. No doubt he made nothing of parochial 
boundaries when souls were perishing, and other clergymen 
neglected their duties. But to the day of his death he was a 
steady adherent of the Church in which he had been ordained, 
used her services devoutly and regularly, and did more for her 
real interests than any clergyman in the north of England. One 
of his biographers specially mentions " that he greatly admired 
the Homilies, and regarded their disuse, and neglect of the 
Thirty-nine Articles, as the chief occasion of all the mischief to 
the Church, believing it probable that if they had been con- 
stantly read Methodism would never have appeared." He 
said once, that an old clergyman of his acquaintance, being 
asked by his curate if he might read the Homilies in the pulpit, 
answered " No ! for if you should do so, the whole congregation 

U95) 9 



130 HIS LAST ILLNESS. 

would turn Methodists." On another occasion he wrote to 
Charles Wesley the following remarkable words : " I see no- 
thing so materially amiss in the liturgy, or the Church consti- 
tution, as to disturb my conscience or justify my separation. 
No : where shall I go to mend myself? I believe the Church 
of England to be the soundest, purest, and most apostolical 
national Christian Church in the world. Therefore I can in 
good conscience (as I am determined, God willing, to do) live 
and die in her." Yet this is the man who, some dare to tell us, 
was no Churchman ! 

Grimshaw's holy and useful career was brought to an end on 
the 7th of April 1763. He died in his own house at Haworth 
of a putrid fever, in the fifty-fifth year of his age and the twenty- 
first of his ministry at Haworth. The fever of which he died 
had been raging in his parish from the beginning of the year, 
and had proved fatal to many of the inhabitants. " On its first 
breaking out," says Hardy, "he had a presentiment that it 
would prove fatal to some member of his family, and had 
exhorted all to be ready." When visiting a parishioner he 
caught the prevailing epidemic, and at once predicted that he 
would not recover. 

To the physician who attended him " he expressed in strong 
terms the humiliating feelings he had on a retrospect of his 
whole life, and how disproportionate, defective, and defiled his 
best services had been, compared with the obligation under 
which he felt himself, and the importance of the cause in which 
he had been engaged ; and that he hoped, if the Lord should 
prolong his days and raise him up, to be much more active and 
diligent." 

To his friend -and brother in the gospel, the Rev. Mr. Ing- 
ham, he said : " My last enemy is come ! The signs of death 
are upon me. But I am not afraid. No ! no ! Blessed be 
God, my hope is sure, and I am in his hands." Afterwards, 
when Mr. Ingham prayed for the lengthening of his life, that he 



B URIED IN L UD DEN DEN CHUR CH. 131 

might yet be useful to Christ's cause, he said, " Alas ! what 
have my wretched services been % I have now need to cry, at 
the end of my unprofitable course, God be merciful to me a 
sinner !" At another time, laying his hand on his heart, he 
said, " I am quite exhausted ; but I shall soon be at home — for 
ever with the Lord — a poor miserable sinner redeemed by his 
blood." 

His valued fellow-labourer, the Rev. Henry Venn, then vicar 
of Huddersfield, came over to see him from Huddersfield, and 
asked him how he felt. To him he replied, " Never had I such 
a visit from God since I first knew him. I am as happy 
as I can be on earth, and as sure of glory as if I were in it." 
After this, finding that his disease was peculiarly infectious 
and dangerous, he requested his friends to visit him as little 
as possible. But his peace and hope are reported to have 
continued unshaken to the end. As he lived so he died, 
rejoicing in Christ Jesus, and putting no confidence in the 
flesh." 

He was buried, by his own desire, by the side of his first wife 
in the chancel of Luddenden Church, in the valley of the 
Calder, not far from Haworth. Like Joseph, " he gave com- 
mandment concerning his bones." He had drawn up full and 
particular directions about his funeral long before he was taken 
ill, and these directions were carefully followed. The number 
of attendants was to be twenty, " religious or relative friends, 
or both." He would have only a plain, poor man's burial suit, 
and a plain, poor man's coffin of elm boards, with the words on 
the cover, " To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." All 
the way to. the church suitable verses were to be sung, in 
various selected metres and tunes, out of the 23rd, 39th, and 
91st Psalms, and also suitable hymns. One of the attendants, 
at least, was to be a Methodist preacher, and he was to preach 
a funeral sermon from the text on his coffin (Phil. i. 21). The 
Methodist preacher selected for the occasion was his old friend 



1 3 2 GRIMSHA VITS FA MIL Y. 

and fellow-labourer, Henry Venn.* The church at Luddenden 
was too small to contain the immense congregation which 
assembled, and the preacher had to take his position in the 
grave-yard. " Tradition reports," says Hardy, " that Venn's 
voice rose like the swell of a full-toned bell as he told forth the 
virtues of his departed friend, and exhorted the people to follow 
him as he had followed Christ." Never, indeed, had any man 
a more honourable burial. Like Stephen, " devout men carried 
him to his grave, and made great lamentation over him." He 
had, as Venn well remarks, " what is more ennobling than all 
the pomp of solemn dirges, or of a royal funeral. He was fol- 
lowed to the tomb by a great multitude, who beheld his corpse 
with affectionate sighs and many tears, and who cannot still 
hear his much-loved name without weeping for the guide of 
their souls." 

Grimshaw was twice married, and twice left a widower. His 
first wife was Sarah, daughter of John Lockwood of Ewood 
Hall. She had been twice married before, first to William Sut- 
cliffe of Scaitcliffe Hall, and secondly to John Ramsden, both 
of whom died without children. He was evidently greatly 
attached to his first wife, and her death, on the ist of No- 
vember 1739, made a deep impression on him. His second 
wife was Elizabeth, daughter of Henry Cockcroft of Mayroyd, 
near Hebden Bridge. I can find no record of the date of her 
death. 

Grimshaw had only two children, both by his first wife, a son 
and a daughter. His daughter died when only twelve years 
old, when at school at Kingswood, near Bristol. Charles 
Wesley says that " she departed in the Lord." His son sur- 
vived his father only three years, and died childless. During 
his father's lifetime he had been careless and intemperate, and 
the cause of great grief. When he visited him on his death- 

* All evangelical clergymen of the Church of England used to be called " Methodists " 
a hundred years ago. 



HIS LITERARY REMAINS. 133 

bed, Grimshaw told him to take care what he did, as he was 
not fit to die. To him also he used the remarkable words that 
" his body felt like a boiling vessel, but his soul was as happy 
as it could be made by God," John Grimshaw died at Ewood 
on the 17th May 1766, and by God's great mercy there was 
hope in his death. His father's dying words perhaps sunk into 
his heart, and at any rate his father's many prayers for him 
were heard. After his father's death, he used to ride a horse 
which formerly belonged to him, and one day meeting an 
inhabitant of Haworth, the man remarked, " I see you are 
riding the old parson's horse." — "Yes," was the reply; "once 
he carried a great saint, and now he carries a great sinner." 
Long before his death young Grimshaw had given clear evi- 
dence of repentance unto salvation, and found pardon and 
peace in Christ ; and a little time before he died, he was heard 
to exclaim, " What will my old father say when he sees I have 
got to heaven?" 



CHAPTER III. 

Literary Remains — Covenant and Summary of Belief— Letter to Christians in London — 
Anecdotes and Traditions — Influence in his Parish — Haworth Races Stopped — Mode 
of Discovering False Professors — Peculiarities in his Conduct of Divine Service — Tes- 
timony of Romaine, Venn, and Newton. 

In order to form a correct estimate of a great man's character, 
there are two sources of information to which we should always 
turn, if possible, in addition to the events of his life. The 
literary remains he leaves behind him form one of these sources; 
the anecdotes handed down about him by contemporaries form 
another. From both these sources I will endeavour to supply 
the reader of these pages with some further information about 
William Grimshaw. 

The literary remains of a man like Grimshaw are necessarily 
few and scanty. It could hardly be otherwise. A clergyman 
who was constantly preaching twenty or thirty times a-week. 



134 GRIMSHAWS COVENANT. 

and carrying on a system of aggressive evangelism all over 
Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Cheshire, was not likely to have 
much time for writing. In fact, his " Reply to White," already 
referred to, is the only formal publication that he ever put 
forth. He says himself in the Reply, " I have as little leisure 
for writing as for anything I do." There are, however, a few 
valuable relics of his thoughts still extant, which are useful, as 
indicating his turn of mind, and will probably be thought inter- 
esting by all Christian readers. 

His covenant with God, given at length by Hardy, is a 
very striking and interesting document, though too long for the 
pages of a memoir like this.* The following disconnected 
extracts will give some idea of it : — 

" Eternal and unchangeable Jehovah ! thou great Creator of heaven 
and earth, and adorable Lord of angels and men ! I desire with the deepest 
humiliation and abasement of soul to fall down at this time in thine awful 
presence, and earnestly pray that thou wilt penetrate my heart with a suit- 
able sense of thine unutterable and inconceivable glories." . . . 

"I know that through Jesus, the Son of thy love, thou condescendest to 
visit sinful mortals, and to allow their approach to thee and this covenant 
intercourse with thee. Nay, I know that the scheme and plan are entirely 
thine own, and that thou hast graciously sent to propose it unto me, as 
•none untaught by thee could have been able to join it, or inclined to embrace 
it, even when actually proposed." . . . 

"To thee, therefore, do I now come, invited by thy love, and trusting 
his righteousness alone, laying myself at thy feet with shame and confusion 
of face, and smiting on my breast, saying with the publican, God be merci- 
ful to me a sinner ! I acknowledge, O Lord, that I have been a great trans- 
gressor. My sins have reached unto heaven, and mine iniquities have been 
lifted up unto the skies. My base corruptions and lusts have numberless 
ways wrought to bring forth fruit unto death, and if thou wert extreme to 
mark what I have done amiss, I could never abide it. But thou hast gra- 
ciously called me to return unto thee, though I am a prodigal son and a 
backsliding child. Behold, therefore, I solemnly come before thee. O my 
Lord, I am convinced of my sin and folly. Thou knowest, O Lord, I 
solemnly covenanted with thee in the year 1738. And now, once more and 

* In giving this covenant to my readers, I would carefully abstain from saying that such 
covenants ought always to be made, or to be pressed on all Christians. So far from that, 
I think them likely to do harm to some minds. Let every one use his liberty. He that 
finds it good to make a covenant, let him make it. But let him not condemn his neigh« 
bour who makes none. 



GRIMSHAW'S COVENANT. 135 

for ever, I most solemnly give up, devote, and resign all I am, spirit, soul, 
and body to thee, and to thy pleasure and commands in Christ Jesus my 
Saviour, this 4th of December 1752 ; sensible of my vileness and unworthi- 
ness, but yet sensible that I am thy pardoned, justified, and regenerated 
child in the spirit and blood of my dear and precious Saviour, Jesus Christ, 
by clear experience." . . . 

"Glory be to thee, O my Triune God ! Permit me to repeat and renew 
my covenant with thee. I desire and resolve to be wholly and for ever 
thine. Blessed God, I most solemnly surrender myself unto thee. Hear, 
O heaven, and give ear, O earth ! I avouch this day the Lord to be my 
God, Father, Saviour, and portion for ever. I am one of his covenant 
children for ever. Record, O eternal Lord, in thy book of remembrance 
that henceforth I am thine for ever. From this day I solemnly renounce all 
former lords — world, flesh, and devil — in thy name. No more, directly or 
indirectly, will I obey them. I renounced them many years ago, and I 
renounce them for ever. This day I give up myself to thee, a living sacri- 
fice, holy and acceptable unto thee ; which I know is my reasonable service. 
To thee I consecrate all my worldly possessions ; in thy service I desire and 
purpose to spend all my time, desiring thee to teach me to spend every 
moment of it to thy glory and the setting forth of thy praise, in every station 
and relation of life I am now or may hereafter be in. And I earnestly pray 
that whatever influence thou mayest in any wise give me over others, thou 
wouldest give me strength and courage, to exert it to the utmost to thy glory, 
resolving not only myself to do it, but that all others, so far as I can ration- 
ally and properly influence them, shall serve the Lord. In that cause would 
I, O Lord, steadfastly persevere to my last breath, steadfastly praying that 
every day of my life may supply the defects and correct the irregularities of 
the former ; and that by divine grace I may be enabled not only in that 
happy way to hold on, but to grow daily more active in it. Nor do I only 
consecrate all I have to thy service, but I also most humbly resign and sub- 
mit to thy holy and sovereign will all that I have. I leave, O Lord, to thy 
management and direction all I possess and all I wish, and set every enjoy- 
ment and interest before thee to be disposed of as thou pleasest. Continue 
or remove what thou hast given me, bestow or refuse what I imagine I want, 
as thou seest good ; and though I dare not say I will never repine, yet I 
hope I may say I will labour not only to submit but to acquiesce ; not only 
to bear thy heaviest afflictions on me, but to consent to them and praise 
thee for them ; contentedly resolving, in all thy appointments, my will into 
thine ; esteeming myself as nothing, and thee, O God, as the great Eternal 
All, whose word shall A termme, and whose power shall order all things in 
the world." . . . 

"Dispose my affa...>, God, in a manner which may be wholly subser- 
vient to thy glory and my own true happiness ; and when I have done, 
borne, and endured thy will upon earth, call me home at what time and in 
what manner thou pleasest. Only grant that in my dying moments, and 
the near approach of eternity, I may remember this my engagement to thee. 



136 HIS SUMMARY OF BELIEF. 

and may employ my latest breath in thy service ; and do thou, when thou 
seest me in the agonies of death, remember this covenant too, though I 
should be incapable of recollecting it. Look down upon me, O Lord, thy 
languishing, dying child ; place thine everlasting arms underneath my head ; 
put strength and confidence into my departing spirit, and receive it to the 
embrace of thine everlasting love." . . . 

"And when I am thus numbered with the dead and all the interests of 
mortality are over with me for ever, if this solemn memorial should fall into 
the hands of any surviving friends or relations, may it be the means of mak- 
ing serious impressions on their minds, and may they read it not only as my 
language, but as their own, and learn to fear the Lord my God, and with 
me to put their trust under the shadow of his wings for time and for 
eternity." . . . 

"I solemnly subscribe this dedication of myself to the ever-blessed Triune 
God, in the presence of angels and all invisible spectators, this fourth day of 
December 1752. William Grimshaw." 

The next document from which I will supply some extracts, 
is a Creed or Summary of Belief which Grimshaw sent to 
Romaine in December 1762, only four months before his death. 
It is to be found at length in Middleton's Biographia Evangelica. 
This creed is a regular systematic statement of Grimshaw's 
religious views, drawn out into twenty-six heads, and is of course 
far too long to be inserted in this place. A few paragraphs are 
all that I can give the reader. They prove, at any rate, that, 
however much Grimshaw may have agreed with Wesley on many 
points, he certainly was not an Arminian.* 

" xxii. — I believe it is by the Spirit we are enabled, not to eradicate (as 
some affirm), for that is absurd, but to subjugate the old man; to suppress, 
not extirpate, the exorbitancies of our fleshly appetites ; to resist and over- 
come the world and the devil, and to grow in grace gradually, not suddenly, 
unto the perfect and eternal day. This is all I acknowledge or know to be 
Christian perfection or sanctification. 

" xxiii. — I believe that all true believers will be daily tempted by the 
flesh, as well as by the world and the devil, even to their hyes' end ; and 
they will feel an inclination, more or less, to comply, yea and do comply 

* It is worthy of remark, that in one of his letters, on another occasion, Grimshaw uses 
the following language : " My perfection is to see my own imperfection; my comfort, to 
feel that I have the world, flesh, and devil to overthrow through the Spirit and merits of 
my dear Saviour ; and my desire and hope is to love God with all my heart, mind, soul, . 
and strength, to the last gasp of life. This is my perfection. I know no other, expecting 
to lay down my life and my sword together." 



LETTER TO CHRISTIANS IN LONDON. 137 

therewith. So that the best believer, if he knows what he says, and says 
the truth, is but a sinner at the best. 

"xxiv. — I believe that their minds are incessantly subject to a thousand 
impertinent, unprofitable thoughts, even amidst their reading, meditation, 
and prayers ; that all their religious exercises are deficient ; that all their 
graces, how eminent soever, are imperfect; that God sees iniquity in all 
their holy things ; and though it be granted that they love God with all 
their hearts, yet they must continually pray with the psalmist, ' Enter not 
into judgment with thy servant.' 

"xxv. — But I believe that Jesus is a full as well as a free Saviour, the 
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. He alone is not only the believer's 
wisdom and righteousness, but his sanctification and redemption; and in 
him is a fountain ever open for sin and uncleanness unto the last breath of 
his life. This is my daily, necessary privilege, my relief, and my comfort. 

" XXVI. — I believe, lastly, that God is faithful and unchangeable; that all 
his promises are yea and amen ; that he never, never will, as the apostle 
says, leave me; will never, never, never forsake me; but that I, and all 
that believe, love, and fear him, shall receive the end of our faith — the sal- 
vation of our souls. 

" Here is the sum and substance of my creed. It is at least what I pre- 
sume to call my form of sound words. In it I can truly say I have no 
respect to men or books, ancient or modern, but to the Holy Scriptures, 
reason, and experience. According to this creed hitherto I have, and I 
hope hereafter to proceed in all my preaching, debasing man and exalting 
my dear Lord in all his offices." 

The last specimen that I will give of Grimshaw's remains is 
a letter addressed by him to certain Christians in London. It 
is dated January 9, 1760, and is to be found in Hardy's Life. 

" Grace, mercy, and peace be to you from God our Father and from our 
Lord Jesus. It is well with some sorts of people that you have had, or now 
have to do with. It is well with those of you in Christ who are gone to God ; 
it is well with those of you in Christ who are not gone to God ; it is well 
with those of you who earnestly long to be in Christ, that they may go to 
God ; it is well for those who neither desire to be in Christ nor to go to 
God ; and it is only bad with such who, being out of Christ, are gone to 
the devil. Them it is best to let alone, and say no more about them. 

"It is well with those of you who, being in Christ, are gone to God. 
You, ministers and members of Christ, have no more doubt or pain about 
them. They are now and for ever out of the reach of the world, flesh, and 
devil. They are gone where the wicked cease from troubling, and where 
the weary are at rest. They are sweetly reposing in Abraham's bosom. 
They dwell in His presence who hath redeemed them, where there is fulness 
of joy and pleasure for evermore. They are waiting the joyful morning of 
the resurrection, when their vile bodies shall be made like unto his glorious 



138 LETTER TO CHRISTIANS IN LONDON. 

body, shall be re-united to the soul, shall receive the joyful sentence, and 
inherit the kingdom prepared for them from the foundation of the world. 

" It is well also with those of you who are in Christ though not gone to 
God. You live next door to them. Heaven is begun with you too. The 
kingdom of God is within you ; you feel it. This is a kingdom of righteous- 
ness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. It is begun in grace, and shall 
terminate in glory. Yea, it is Christ within you the hope of glory. Christ 
the rock, the foundation laid in your hearts, hope in the middle, and glory 
at the top. Christ, hope, glory ! Christ, hope, glory ! You are washed in 
the blood of the Lamb ; justified, sanctified, and shall shortly be glorified. 
Yea, your lives are already hid with Christ in God. You have your con- 
versation already in heaven. Already you sit in heavenly places in Christ 
Jesus. What heavenly sentences are these! What can come nearer Para- 
dise? Bless the Lord, O ye happy souls, and let all that is within you bless 
his holy name. Sing unto the Lord as long as you live, and praise your 
God while you have your being. And how long will that be ? Through 
the endless ages of a glorious eternity ! 

" It is well with all those of you who truly desire to be in Christ, that you 
may go to God. Surely he owns you. Your desires are from him ; you shall 
enjoy his favour. By-and-by you shall have peace with him through our 
Lord Jesus Christ. Go forth by the footsteps of the flock, and feed by the 
Shepherd's tents. Be constant in every means of grace. He will be found 
of them that diligently seek him. Blessed are they that mourn, for they 
shall be comforted. Though your sins be never so many, never so monstrous, 
all shall be forgiven. He will have mercy upon you, and will abundantly 
pardon. For where sin hath abounded, grace doth much more abound. 
He who hath begun this good work in you will accomplish it to your eternal 
good and his eternal glory. Therefore doubt not, fear not; a broken and 
a contrite heart God will not despise. The deeper is your sorrow, the 
nearer is your joy. Your extremity is God's opportunity. It is usually 
darkest just before daybreak. You shall shortly find pardon, peace, and 
plenteous redemption, and at last rejoice in the common and glorious sal- 
vation of his saints. 

" And lastly, it is well for you who neither truly desire to be in Christ, 
nor to go to God. For it is well for you that you are not in hell. It is 
well your day of grace is not utterly past. Behold, now is your accepted 
time ; behold, now is your day of salvation ! Oh that you may employ the 
remainder of it in working out your salvation with fear and trembling. Now 
is faith to be had — saving faith. Now you may be washed from all sins in 
the Redeemer's blood, justified, sanctified, and prepared for heaven. Take, 
I beseech you, the time, while the time is. You have now the means of 
grace to use, the ordinances of God to enjoy, his Word to read and hear, 
his ministers to insh-uct you, and his members to converse with. You know 
not what a day may bring forth. You may die suddenly. As death leaves 
you judgment will find you. And if you should die as you are — out ot 
Christ, void of true faith, unregenerate, un.sanctified — fire and brimstone, 



VALUE OF LITERARY REMAINS. 139 

storm and tempest, God will rain upon you, as your eternal, intolerable 
portion to drink. 

" Suffer me, therefore, thus far, one and all of you. God's glory and your 
everlasting salvation is all I aim at. What I look for in return from you is, 
I confess, much more than I deserve — your prayers." 



It would be easy to supply many more extracts than these. 
But I forbear. I make no apology, however, for the length of 
those I have already given. The reader will probably agree 
with me that they are in themselves full of interesting matter. 
But this is not all. They possess an additional value as sup- 
plying a most graphic picture of Grimshaw's mode of expressing 
himself, and of the topics on which his mind was constantly 
dwelling. In fact, they furnish a pretty correct idea of what 
the good man's preaching must have been. He evidently 
wrote as he thought and spoke. His remains are just the over- 
flowings of a heart full of Scripture, full of Christ, full of deep 
thoughts on the sinfulness of sin, the value of the soul, the need 
of repentance and faith, the happiness of holy living, the im- 
portance of a world to come. Let a man analyze Grimshaw's 
remains carefully and thoughtfully, and I suspect he will have 
a very fair conception of the style in which Grimshaw used to 
preach. 

The anecdotes and traditions that have been handed down 
about the good Incumbent of Haworth are very many and very 
curious. All of them, perhaps, are not true. Some, perhaps, 
are greatly exaggerated. Many, however, after making every 
fair deduction, are undoubtedly credible and genuine. I will 
mention some of them. 

The influence he gradually obtained in his own parish was 
very great Even those who were not converted looked up to 
him and feared him. John Newton says : " One Sunday, as a 
man was passing through Haworth on horseback, his horse lost 
a shoe. He applied to a blacksmith to put it on. To his 
surprise, the man told him he could not shoe a horse on the, 



14© ANECDOTES AND TRADITIONS. 

Lord's day without the minister's leave. They went together 
to Mr. Grimshaw, and the man satisfying him that he was really 
in haste, going for a doctor, Mr. Grimshaw permitted the black- 
smith to shoe the horse, which otherwise he would not have 
done for double pay." 

" It was his frequent custom," adds Newton, " to leave the 
church at Haworth while the psalm before sermon was singing, 
to see if any were absent from worship and idling their time in 
the churchyard, the street, or the ale-houses ; and many of those 
whom he so found he would drive into church before him.* A 
friend of mine, passing a public-house in Haworth on a Lord's 
day morning, saw several persons making their escape out of it, 
some jumping out of the lower windows, and some over a low 
wall. He was at first alarmed, fearing the house was on fire ; 
but upon inquiring what was the cause of the commotion, he 
was only told that they saw the parson coming. They were 
more afraid of the parson than of a justice of the peace. His 
reproof was so authoritative, and yet so mild and friendly, that 
the stoutest sinner could not stand before him. 

" He endeavoured likewise to suppress the common custom 
of walking in the fields on the Lord's day in summer, instead 
of coming to God's house. He not only bore his testimony 
against it from the pulpit, but went into the fields in person to 
detect and reprove the delinquents. There was a spot at some 
distance from the village, where many young people used to 
assemble on Sundays in spite of all his warnings. At last he 
disguised himself one evening, that he might not be known till 
he was near enough to discover who they were. He then threw 
off his disguise, and charged them not to move. He took down 
all their names with his pencil, and ordered them to attend on 

* According to Hardy, there is a tradition in Haworth that Grimshaw sometimes used 
a stick or horse-whip on these occasions, and that he occasionally gave out the 119th Psalm 
to be sung during his absence from church, in order that he might have the longer time 
for prosecuting his search after the disorderly. These stories, however, are probably 
apocryphal. 



HA IVOR TH RA CES S TOPPED. 1 4 1 

him on a day and hour which he appointed. They all waited 
on him accordingly, as punctually as if they had been served 
with a warrant. When they came, he led them into a private 
room, when, after forming them into a circle and commanding 
them to kneel down, he kneeled down in the midst of them, 
and prayed for them with much earnestness for a considerable 
time. After rising from his knees, he gave them a close and 
affecting lecture. He never had occasion to repeat this 
friendly discipline. He entirely broke the objectionable cus- 
tom." 

One of the most remarkable and well-authenticated anecdotes 
about Grimshaw is in connection with Haworth races. These 
races were an annual festival got up by the innkeepers, and a 
great occasion of drunkenness, riot, profligacy, and confusion. 
For some time Grimshaw attempted in vain to stop these races. 
" At last," says John Newton, " unable to prevail with men, he 
addressed himself to God. For some time before the races he 
made it a subject of fervent prayer that the Lord would be 
pleased to interfere, and to stop these evil proceedings in his 
own way. When the race-time came, the people assembled as 
usual, but they were soon dispersed. Before the races could 
begin, dark clouds covered the sky, and such excessively heavy 
rain fell, that the people could not remain on the ground, and 
it continued to rain incessantly during the three days appointed 
for the races. This event was much spoken of at Haworth. 
It became a sort of proverbial saying among the people that old 
Grimshaw put a stop to the races by his prayers. And it 
proved an effectual stop. There were no more races at 
Haworth." 

" He was particularly watchful," says Newton, " over those of 
his flock who made an open profession of religion, to see if 
they adorned the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things, and 
maintained a consistent character ; and he was very severe in 
his censures if he found any of his communicants guilty of 



1 4 2 G RIMS HA VfTS DISG UISE. 

wrong practices. When he suspected hypocrisy, he sometimes 
took such strange methods to detect it, as perhaps few men but 
himself would have thought of. He had a suspicion of the 
sincerity of some of his hearers, who made great pretence to 
religion. In order to find out one of them, he disguised him- 
self as a poor man, and applied to him for relief and a lodging ; 
and, behold ! this person who wished to be thought very good 
and charitable, treated him with some abuse.— He then went to 
another house, to a woman who was almost blind. He touched 
her gently with his stick, and went on doing it until she, sup- 
posing it was done by some children in the neighbourhood, 
began not only to threaten but to swear at them. Thus he was 
confirmed in his apprehensions." 

"At a cottage prayer-meeting," says Hardy, "some of Grim- 
shaw's people had to endure much annoyance and persecution, 
and for a long time no one could discover who the delinquents 
were. At last the incumbent came to their assistance and 
solved the mystery. He put on an old woman's cap, and peeped 
stealthily from behind the door, and then appeared to grow 
rather bolder, while he quietly made the observation he wished. 
He found there was a set of rude boys who only came to make 
sport and annoy others. They soon began to make fun of 
the old woman (as she seemed to be), and defied her with mocks 
and menaces. In this way they were all found out and brought 
to justice, and then the persecution ceased." 

He carried his humility and simplicity of living to such an 
extent that he thought anything good enough for himself, if he 
could only show a Christian brother kindness and hospitality. 
A godly friend who once came to stay a night with him, was 
horrified on looking out of his bedroom window in the morn- 
ing, to see Grimshaw' with his own hands cleaning his guest's 
boots !• Nor was this all. On coming down stairs he dis- 
covered that Grimshaw had actually given up his own bedroom 
for his accommodation, and had spent the night in a hay-loft ! 



HIS PECULIARITIES. 143 

His ways in his own parish, as he went about doing the work 
of a pastor, were very peculiar. Hardy says, " When he met 
with any one in the lanes he would enter into familiar conver- 
sation with them, and generally asked if they were accustomed 
to pray. When they answered in the affirmative, and he doubted 
their sincerity, he bade them kneel down and show him how 
they performed this duty. There were sometimes scenes by the 
road-side, in consequence, that a stranger could not look at 
without a smile ; but to the persons concerned these inquiries 
were, in some instances, the means of awakening concern about 
their souls. The tradition of the district is, that ' he would rive 
them from horseback to make them pray.' But he was as ready 
to do an act of courtesy as to administer reproof. Once on his 
way to Colne, he overtook an old woman, and asked her where 
she was going. She replied, ' To hear Grimshaw.' He pitied 
her many infirmities ; but she said her heart was already there, 
and she would make the body follow. Struck by her earnest- 
ness, he actually took her up behind him on the pillion of his 
own horse, and thus enabled her to reach the place without 
further toil." 

Hardy adds, " Grimshaw was not unmindful of himself, whilst 
watchful over the souls of others. Once he had a very fine cow, 
in which he took so much pride, that the thought of her fol- 
lowed him into the service of the Church, and hindered his 
communion with God. He determined that she should no 
longer ruffle his mind, and so announced her for sale. When a 
farmer came to look at her, he asked, as usual, whether she had 
any fault. To this Grimshaw made this quaint reply, ' Her fault 
in my eyes will be no fault to you ; she follows me into my pulpit.'" 

The things that he did inside his church, both in the reading- 
desk and the pulpit, may certainly seem to us very eccentric 
and strange in the present day.* Undoubtedly, they are not 

* Hardy, in his biography, gives an interesting description of Haworth Parish Church, 
which, according to him, is very little altered since Grimshaw's death. Among other things, 



144 PECULIARITIES IN HIS CONDUCT 

examples for imitation ; and unless a man is " a Grimshaw," he 
has no right to attempt them. Before condemning them too 
strongly, however, men should call to mind the times and the 
population with which he had to do. We are, in fact, dealing 
with a man who lived a hundred years ago. 

He was very particular in enforcing order and devout be- 
haviour among the worshippers in his church at Ha worth. 
Carelessness and inattention were instantly observed and openly 
rebuked ; and he would not proceed with the service until he saw 
every person present in the attitude of devotion. Some of his 
hearers certainly deserved great attention and encouragement. 
Not a few came ten or twelve miles every Sunday to attend his 
ministry. One John Madden of Bacup often walked to Ha- 
worth on the Sabbath, and returned the same evening, a distance, 
out and home, of nearly forty miles.* 

In giving out the hymns to be sung in church, he sometimes 
took singular liberties. A valued friend of mine was told by an 
old man in Haworth that he remembered his grandfather speaking 
of Grimshaw, and telling the following story : — His grandfather 
was in Haworth Church, when Grimshaw gave out the well- 
known hymn of Dr. Watts, beginning, — 

" Come, ye that love the Lord, 
And let your joys be known ; 
Join in a song with sweet accord, 
And so surround the throne." 

He said, that when Grimshaw had read the first verse, he looked 
at the people, and cried out, " Now, unconverted sinners here 
present, can you sing that % " 

His sermons were seldom short when he occupied his own 
pulpit at Haworth. Indeed, he sometimes preached for two 

he says : " Appropriate inscriptions, in various parts of the church, remind the worship- 
pers of their duty. Under the sounding-board of the pulpit, in gilt letters, there is the 
sentence, ' I determined not to know anything save Jesus Christ and him crucified.' His 
favourite text, '■ To me to live is Christ,' appears on the pulpit, on the brass chandelier, and 
on a tablet with the names of the church-officers. On the baptismal font is the sentence, 
' I indeed baptize with water, but he shall baptize with the Holy Ghost.'" 
* Methodist Magazine for 1811, p. 521. 



OF DIVINE SERVICE. 145 

hours ! For this he once made an apology to John Newton : 
" If I were in some places," he said, " I might not think it 
needful to speak so much. But many of my hearers, who are 
wicked and careless, are likewise very ignorant and slow of 
apprehension. If they do not understand me, I cannot hope to 
do them good ; and when I think of the uncertainty of life, 
that, perhaps, it may be the last opportunity, and that it is not 
impossible I may never see them again till the great day, I know 
not how to be explicit enough. I try to set the subject in a 
variety of lights. I express the same thoughts in different 
words, and can scarcely tell how to leave off, lest I should have 
omitted something, for want of which my preaching and their 
hearing should be vain." 

His prayers after sermon must have been sometimes very 
remarkable. John Pawson, a well-known Methodist preacher, 
said, in 1803, that he heard liim, fifty years before, preach a 
most comforting discourse on the words, " O fear the Lord, ye 
his saints, for there is no want to them that fear him" (Ps. 
xxxiv. 9), in which he spoke very strongly about God's faith- 
fulness to his promises, and said, " Before the Lord will suffer 
his promise to fail, he will lay aside his divinity and un-God 
himself." He then offered the following prayer : " Lord, dis- 
miss us with thy blessing. Take all these poor people under 
thy care, and bring them in safety to their own houses, and give 
them their supper when they get home. But let them not eat a 
morsel till they have said a grace. Then let them eat and be 
satisfied, and return thanks to thee when they have done. Then 
let them kneel down and say their prayers before they go to 
bed. Let them do this for once at any rate, and then thou wilt 
preserve them till the morning." 

Though Grimshaw's ministry was almost entirely among the 
poor and lower middle classes, he was quite able to take his 
position and speak wisely and shrewdly in any company. On 
one occasion he was invited to meet a nobleman who had 

(195) 10 



146 MORE TALENTS THAN GRACE. 

imbibed infidel principles, and had resisted the efforts of two 
eminent clergymen to convince him of his error. He wished 
at once to draw Grimshaw into a discussion, but Grimshaw 
firmly and decidedly declined. " My lord," he said, " I do not 
refuse to argue because I have nothing to say, or because I 
fear for my cause. I refuse because argument will do you no 
good. If you really needed any information, I would gladly 
assist you. But the fault is not in your head, but in your heart, 
which can only be reached by a divine power. I shall pray for 
you, but I will not dispute with you." The nobleman afterwards 
said that he was more impressed by the honesty and firmness of 
those simple words than by all the arguments he had heard. 

" To a lady," says Hardy, " with whom Grimshaw was con- 
versing, he once gave a striking reproof. She was expressing 
her admiration of a certain minister who had more talents than 
grace. ' Madam,' said Grimshaw, 1 1 am glad you never saw 
the devil. He has greater talents than all the ministers in the 
world. I fear, if you saw him, you would fall in love with him, 
as you have so high a regard for talents without sanctity. Pray, 
do not be led away with the sound of talents.' " 

Anecdotes like these tell a tale that ought not to be over- 
looked. The subject of them must surely have been no ordinary 
man. When sayings and doings are so carefully treasured up 
and handed down from generation to generation, the character 
round which they cluster was one of no common mould. I repeat 
the opinion that I expressed at the beginning of this biography. 
There w r ere not three greater spiritual heroes in England one 
hundred years ago than William Grimshaw. 

I will now conclude this paper with three short extracts from 
men of approved characters in the last century, which serve to 
show the high estimation in which Grimshaw was held by his 
contemporaries. 

Romaine said publicly in a sermon preached at St. Dun Stan's 
in the West, shortly after Grimshaw's death, — 



TESTIMONY OF ROMAINE AND VENN. 147 

" Mr. Grimshaw was one of the most laborious and indefati- 
gable ministers of Christ that I ever knew. For the good of souls 
he rejected all hopes of affluent fortune, and for the love of 
Christ cheerfully undertook difficulties, dangers, and tribula- 
tions. He preached Christ and Christ alone ; and God gave 
him very numerous seals to his ministry. Himself hath told me 
that not fewer than 1200 were in communion with him, most of 
whom, in. the judgment of charity, he could not but believe to 
be one with Christ. When some of his friends, in tenderness 
to his health, would wish him to spare himself, he would answer, 
— ' Let me labour now : I shall have rest enough by-and-by. I 
cannot do enough for Christ, who has done so much for me.' 
He was the most humble walker with God I ever met with ; 
inasmuch that he could never bear to hear any commendations 
of his usefulness, or anything which belonged to him. His last 
words were, ' Here goes an unprofitable servant ! '" 

Henry Venn, who preached his funeral sermon, said, among 
other things, — " It is hard to determine whether we have more 
cause to lament his removal from our world, or to rejoice that 
God was pleased to enrich him with divine knowledge in so 
large a measure, to make him so long an eminent instrument in 
his hand of converting sinners, and to enable him to persevere 
with an unblemished character till he finished his course with 
joy. Few have ever expressed so great ardency of affection to 
the service of Christ as your late much-loved pastor. 

" Never was there any sordid child of this world more en- 
grossed by the love of money, and more laborious in heaping it 
up, than your late pastor was in teaching and preaching the 
kingdom of God, and the things concerning the Lord Jesus 
Christ." 

John Newton says, — " I knew Mr. Grimshaw, and had re- 
peated conversations with him for four or five years. I number 
it among the many great mercies of my life, that I was favoured 
with his notice, edified (I hope) by his instruction and example, 



1 48 TESTIMONY OF JOHN NE WTON. 

and encouraged and directed by his advice, at the critical time 
when my own mind was engaged with the desire of entering 
the ministry. I saw in him, much more clearly than I could 
have learned from books or lectures, what it was to be a faithful 
and exemplary minister of the gospel ; and the remembrance of 
him has often both humbled and animated me." 

These testimonies are weighty and powerful. But they are 
not mere flattering words. They are well deserved, and they 
are true. 



VI. 

/illbm jjtomattie anb fjis gthtistrg, 



CHAPTER I. 

Born at Hartlepool in 1714 — Educated at Houghton-le-Spring and Christ Church, Oxford 
— Character for Learning at Oxford — Ordained 1736 — Curate of Lewtrenchard and 
Banstead — Lectures at St. Botolph's 1748, and St. Dunstan's 1749, — Troubles at St. 
Dunstan's — Morning Preacher at St. George's, Hanover Square, 1750 — Loses his 
Preachership 1755 — Gresham Professor of Astronomy — Morning Preacher at St. 
Olave, Southwark, and St. Bartholomew the Great — Preaches before the University 
of Oxford — Gives great Offence. 




.HE true Church of Christ is curiously like a well- 
appointed army. 

The soldiers of an army all owe allegiance to one 
common sovereign, and are engaged in one common cause. 
They are commanded by one general, and fight against one 
common foe. And yet there are marked varieties and diversities 
among them. Cavalry, infantry, and artillery have each their 
own peculiar mode of fighting. Each arm in its own way is 
useful. It is the well-balanced combination of all three which 
gives to the whole army efficiency and power. 

It is just the same with the true Church of 'Christ. Its 
members all love the same Saviour, and are led by the same 
Spirit ; all wage the same warfare against sin and the devil, and 
all believe the same gospel. But the work of one soldier of 
Christ is not the work of another. Each is appointed by the 



15° BIRTH OF WILLIAM RO MAINE. 

Great Captain to fill his own peculiar position, and each is 
specially useful in his own department. 

Thoughts such as these come across my mind, when I turn 
from Whitefield, Wesley, and Grimshaw, to the fourth spiritual 
hero of the last century — William Romaine. In doctrine and 
practical piety, the four good men were, in the main, of one 
mind. In their mode of working, they were curiously unlike 
one another. Whitefield and Wesley were spiritual cavalry, who 
scoured the country, and were found everywhere. Grimshaw 
was an infantry soldier, who had his head-quarters at Haworth, 
and never went far from home. Romaine, in the meantime, 
was a commander of heavy artillery, who held a citadel in the 
heart of a metropolis, and seldom stirred beyond his walls. Yet 
all these four men were mighty instruments in God's hand for 
good ; and not one of them could have been spared. Each did 
good service in his own line ; and not the least useful, I hope 
to show, was the Rector of Blackfriars, William Romaine. In 
what are called popular gifts, no doubt, he was not equal to his 
three great contemporaries. But none of the three, probably, 
was so well fitted as he was to fill the position which he occu- 
pied in London. 

William Romaine was born at Hartlepool, in the county of 
Durham, on the 25th of September 17 14. His father was one 
of the French Protestants who took refuge in England after the 
revocation of the edict of Nantes. He settled at Hartlepool as 
a corn merchant, and appears to have prospered in business. 
At any rate, he brought up a family of two sons and three 
daughters, and left behind a high character as a kind and esti- 
mable man when he died, 1757, at the ripe age of eighty-five. 

There is every reason to believe that Romaine's parents were 
decidedly religious people, and that from his earliest years he 
saw true Christianity both taught and exemplified in his own 
home. The value of this rare privilege can hardly be overrated. 
The seeds of a long life of service and usefulness were certainly 



HIS DILIGENCE A T OXFORD. 1 5 * 

sown by the Holy Ghost in this Hartlepool home. Romaine never 
forgot this. In a letter written to a friend when he was seventy 
years old, he uses the following expressions : " Mr. Whitefield 
used often to put me in mind how singularly favoured I was. 
He had none of his family converted ; while my father, mother, 
and three sisters were like those blessed people of whom it is 
written, 'Jesus loved Martha and her sister, and Lazarus.' And 
as they loved him again, so do we." 

At the age of ten, Romaine was sent to a well-known grammar 
school at Houghton-le- Spring, in the county of Durham, founded 
by the famous Bernard Gilpin at the time of the' Protestant 
Reformation. At this school he remained seven years. From 
thence, in the year 1731, he was sent to Oxford ; and after first 
entering Hertford College, was finally removed to Christ Church. 
For the next six years he appears to have resided principally at 
Oxford, until he took his degree as Master of Arts in October 

1737- 

Of Romaine's manner of life at Oxford we know nothing, 
except the fact that he was a hard reader, and had a high 
reputation as a man of ability. Of his friends, companions, and 
associates, we have no record. This at first sight seems some- 
what remarkable, when we remember that it was precisely at 
this period that " Methodism," so-called, took its rise at the 
University. In fact, it was just the time when John Wesley, 
Charles Wesley, Whitefield, Ingham, and Hervey, were begin- 
ning to work for Christ in Oxford, and had formed a kind of 
religious society. There is not, however, the slightest trace of 
any communication between them and Romaine. The most 
natural supposition is, that he was wholly absorbed in literary 
pursuits, and allowed himself no time for other work. To this 
we may add the fact, that the natural bent of his character 
would probably incline him to keep by himself and stand 
alone. 

The high character which he attained in the university, as a 



152 



HIS ORDINATION. 



learned man, is clearly shown by an anecdote related of him by 
his curate and successor, Mr. Goode, after his death. He says 
in his funeral sermon : " Dress was never a foible of Mr. 
Romaine's. His mind was superior to such borrowed ornaments. 
Immersed in the noble pursuit of literature, before his conse- 
cration to a still more exalted purpose, he paid but little atten- 
tion to outward decoration. Being observed at Oxford, on one 
occasion, to walk by rather negligently attired, a visitor inquired 
of a friend, Master of one of the colleges: 'Who is that slovenly 
person with his stockings down V The master replied : ' That 
slovenly person, as you call him, is one of the greatest geniuses 
of the age, and is likely to be one of the greatest men in the 
kingdom.'" 

Commendation like this was, of course, somewhat exaggerated 
and extravagant. But at any rate, there can be no doubt that 
Romaine left Oxford a thorough scholar and a well-read man. 
His worst enemies in after-life could never lay to his charge 
that he was " unlearned and ignorant." They might dislike his 
doctrinal views, but they could never deny that in any matter 
of Hebrew, Greek, or Latin criticism, his opinion was entitled 
to respect. Well would it be for the Churches, if in this respect 
there were more evangelical ministers who walked in the steps 
of Romaine. Grace and soundness in the faith, diligence and 
personal piety, are undoubtedly the principal things. But 
book-learning ought not to be despised. An ignorant and ill- 
read ministry, in days of intellectual activity, must sooner or 
later fall into contempt. 

Romaine was ordained deacon at Hereford in 1736, by 
Bishop Egerton ; and priest in 1738, by the Bishop of Win- 
chester, the notorious Dr. Hoadley. The history of the first 
eleven years of his ministerial life is involved in much uncer- 
tainty. I am unable to tell the reader who gave him a title for 
orders, or why he was ordained at Hereford. I can only find 
out that his first engagement was the curacy of Lewtrenchard, 



CURATE OF BAN STEAD. 153 

near Okehampton, in Devonshire. He went there on a visit to 
an Oxford friend, whose father lived at Lidford, and upon the 
express condition that his friend should find him work. He 
only remained here about six months. From Lewtrenchard he 
removed into the diocese of Winchester, and was curate of 
Banstead, near Epsom, for anything we can see, for an unbroken 
period of ten years. Much of his after-course in life probably 
hinged on this curacy. It was here that he became acquainted 
with Sir Daniel Lambert, an alderman of London, who lived in 
the parish, and was lord-mayor in 1741. He thought so highly 
of Romaine that he appointed him his chaplain during the year 
of his mayoralty — a circumstance which brought him into notice 
as a preacher, both at St. Paul's Cathedral and in many other 
London pulpits. 

It is highly probable that the ten years which Romaine spent 
at Banstead were years of deep study and literary pursuits. It 
was at this time that he published two volumes in reply to 
Warburton's " Divine Legation of Moses," in which he ably 
controverted the main positions of that mischievous book. He 
also prepared for the press a new edition of the Hebrew Con- 
cordance and Lexicon of Marius de Calasio, in four large 
volumes — a work which required very close attention, and which 
employed him no less than seven years. The small size of his 
cure at Banstead no doubt left him abundant time for study ; 
and this time was well spent. The extremely firm and unwa- 
vering position which he assumed on points of doctrine in after- 
life, may be traced in all probability to the quiet ten years 
which he spent in his Surrey curacy. Foundation-stones are 
often laid in a young ministers mind during his residence in 
such a position, which nothing in after-life can ever shake or 
displace. 

One thing, at all events, is very certain, whatever else is 
uncertain, about Romaine's ministerial beginnings. There 
never seems to have been a period, from the time of his ordina- 



i54 



PRE A CHES A T ST. PA UVS. 



tion, when he did not preach clear, distinct, and unmistakable 
evangelical doctrines. The truths of the glorious gospel appear 
to have been applied to his heart by the Holy Spirit from the 
days of his childhood at Hartlepool. From the very first he 
was a well-instructed divine, and, unlike many clergymen, had 
nothing to unlearn after he was ordained. 

The proof of this may be seen in' the sermon which he 
preached in St. Paul's Cathedral, as chaplain to the Lord 
Mayor, on September 2, 1741. At this time, it will be remem- 
bered, he was only twenty-seven years old. The title of this 
sermon is, " No Justification by the Law of Nature," and the 
text is Romans ii. 14, 15. Cadogan, his biographer, justly 
remarks on this sermon : "Although we do not discover in this 
discourse the same fertile experience, use, and application of the 
truth as are to be found in his later writings, yet we discover 
the same truth itself by which he was then made free from the 
errors of the day, and in the enjoyment of which he lived and 

died The truth is, he was a believer possessed of that 

unfeigned faith which dwelt in his father and mother before 
him, and we are persuaded that it was in him also." 

The second marked period in Romaine's ministerial life 
extends from 1748 to 1766. Within this space of eighteen 
years he met with some of his greatest trials, and filled many 
different posts in the Lord's vineyard, but always in London. 
I may add, that at no time in his life, perhaps, was he more 
useful and more popular. He was in the full vigour of body 
and mind, and enjoyed a reputation as a bold and uncompro- 
mising preacher of evangelical doctrine throughout the metro- 
polis, which few other living men equalled, and fewer still 
surpassed. 

The first post that Romaine regularly occupied in London 
was that of lecturer at St. Botolph's, Billingsgate. The circum- 
stances which led to his appointment were so singular that I 
think it well to mention them. They supply an admirable 



LECTURER OF ST. BOTOLPH'S. 155 

illustration of the manner in which God works by his providence 
in finding a right position for his people. It seems, then, to 
have been Romaine's intention, after finishing his edition of 
Calasio's Lexicon, to return to his native county, and to seek 
employment near his home. In fact, he had actually packed 
up his trunks, and sent them on board ship with this view. But 
as he was going to the water-side, in order to secure his own 
passage, he was met by a gentleman, an entire stranger to him, 
who stopped and asked him if his name was Romaine. The 
gentleman had formerly known his father, and was led to make 
the inquiry by observing a strong resemblance to him in the 
clergyman whom he met. After some conversation about his 
family, this gentleman, who was a man of some influence in the 
city, told him that the lectureship of St. Botolph's, Billingsgate, 
was then vacant, and that if he liked to become a candidate for 
the post, he would gladly exert his influence in his behalf. 
Romaine, seeing in this unexpected providence the finger of 
God, at once consented, provided he was not obliged to canvass 
the voters in person, a custom which he always thought incon- 
sistent with the office of a clergyman. The result was, that in 
the autumn of 1748 he was chosen lecturer of St. Botolph's, and 
commenced his long career as a London clergyman. 

It is deeply instructive to observe in a case like this, how 
God chooses the habitation of his people, and places them 
where he knows it is best for them to be. Cadogan, Romaine's 
excellent biographer, remarks on this part of his history : " A 
settlement in the metropolis was the thing of all others which 
he last thought of, and to which he was the least inclined. 
From the bent of his genius to the study of nature, of minerals, 
fossils, and plants, and the wonders of God in creation, a 
country life, so favourable to these pursuits, would have been 
chosen by him. But God chose otherwise for him ; and by a 
circumstance trivial and accidental to appearance, but in reality 
a turn of providence such as decides the condition of most men, 



156 TROUBLES A T ST D UNSTAJSTS. 

called him to a city-lectureship, and so detained him in London, 
where he was kept to the end of his existence as a witness for 
Jesus Christ, with abilities as truly suited to this meridian as 
those of the Apostle Paul to the meridian of Ephesus, Corinth, 
or Rome." 

In the year 1749, he was chosen lecturer of St. Dunstan's in 
the West — an appointment which brought down on him one of 
the fiercest storms of persecution which he had to face in the 
course of his ministry. The Rector of St. Dunstan's, for some 
reason, disputed his right to the pulpit, and occupied it himself 
during the time of prayers, in order to exclude him from it. 
Romaine, in the meantime, appeared constantly in his place to 
assert his claim to the lectureship, and his readiness to perform 
the duties of the office. The affair was at length carried into 
the Court of King's Bench, and after hearing the cause argued, 
Lord Mansfield decided that Romaine was legally entitled to 
the lectureship, and that seven o'clock in the evening was a 
convenient time to preach the lecture. 

Even then, however, the troubles of the lectureship were not 
over. Cadogan says that even after Lord Mansfield's decision, 
the churchwardens refused to open the doors of the church till 
seven o'clock, and to light it when there was occasion. The 
result was, that Romaine frequently read prayers and preached 
by the light of a single candle, which he held in his own hand. 
Besides this, as the church doors were kept shut until the precise 
moment fixed for preaching the lecture, the congregation was 
usually assembled in Fleet Street waiting for admission. The 
consequence was a great concourse of people, collected in a 
principal thoroughfare of the metropolis, and though not noisy 
or disorderly, occasioning much inconvenience to those who 
passed that way. This state of things actually continued for 
some time. Happily for all parties, Dr. Terrick, Bishop of 
London, who had once held the lectureship himself, happened 
to pass through Fleet Street one evening when the congrega- 



MORNING-PREA CHER A T ST. GEORGE *& 1 5 7 

tion were waiting outside St. Dunstan's. Observing the crowd, 
he asked the cause of it, and being told that it was Romaine's 
congregation, he interfered with the rector and churchwardens 
on their behalf, expressed great respect for the lecturer, and 
obtained for him and his hearers that the service should begin 
at six, that the doors should be opened in proper time, and 
that lights should be provided in the winter season. From this 
time forth Romaine continued in the quiet exercise of his 
ministry at St. Dunstan's, without disturbance, and to the edifi- 
cation of many, to the end of his life. In fact, he held this 
lectureship for no less than forty-six years, though it was only 
worth eighteen pounds a-year ! 

In the year 1750, Romaine was appointed assistant morning- 
preacher at St. George's, Hanover Square, and held the office 
for five years. Of all the many pulpits which he occupied 
during his long ministry, this was by far the most important. 
Standing, as the church does, in an extremely prominent posi- 
tion in the west end of London, and well known as the mother- 
church of the most fashionable quarter of the metropolis, it 
opened up to him a great and effectual door of usefulness. 
Romaine, in many respects, was just the man for the post. 
His undeniable powers as a preacher attracted attention. His 
well-known scholarship commanded respect even from those 
who did not agree with him. And best of all, his bold, uncom- 
promising declarations of the real gospel of Christ, and plain 
denunciations of fashionable sins, were precisely the message 
which the Bible leads us to expect God will bless. It is not, 
perhaps, too much to say, that from the day St. George's, 
Hanover Square, was built, to this very day, it has never had 
its pulpit so well filled on Sunday mornings as it was for five 
years by Romaine. 

The circumstances of the times in which he preached at St. 
George's made his testimony peculiarly valuable and important. 
A. cold heartless scepticism about all the leading truths of 



1 5 8 EAR THQ UAKE A T LONDON. 

Christianity prevailed widely among the upper and middle 
classes of society. Bishop Butler had complained not long 
before, that " many persons seemed to take it for granted that 
Christianity was fictitious, and that nothing remained but to set 
it up as a principal object of mirth and ridicule." That such 
principles naturally produced the utmost profligacy, reckless- 
ness, and immorality of practice, no Bible reader will be sur- 
prised to hear. In fact, the utter ungodliness of the age was 
so thorough that few living in the present day can have the 
slightest conception of it. Against this ungodliness Romaine 
boldly lifted up a standard, and blew the trumpet of the gospel 
with no uncertain sound. He was in the highest sense a man 
for the times, and he was exactly in the right place. Those 
who would like to see how boldly and powerfully he delivered 
his Master's message, would do well to read two sermons which 
he delivered at St. George's, one of them entitled, " A Method 
for Preventing the Frequency of Robberies and Murders;" 
and the other, "A Discourse on the Self-Existence of Jesus 
Christ." 

Just about the time that he was removed from the pulpit of 
St. George's, the inhabitants of London were dreadfully fright- 
ened by two severe shocks of an earthquake. Happening simul- 
taneously with the awful earthquake which in a moment over- 
threw Lisbon and destroyed forty thousand persons, this event 
caused great alarm. Thousands of persons fled to Hyde Park 
and spent the night there. Hundreds crowded to the places of 
worship where so-called Methodist doctrines were preached, and 
anxiously sought consolation. Even Sherlock, Bishop of London, 
thought it necessary to publish a Letter to his Diocese on the 
subject, in which he exhorted the clergy " to awaken the people, 
to call them from their lethargy, and make them see their own 
danger." Here again Romaine was just the man for the occa- 
sion. He preached and printed two sermons, which even now 
will amply repay perusal. One of them is called, " An Alarm 



L OSES HIS PRE A CHER SHIP. 159 

to a Careless World ; " and the other, " The Duty of Watchful- 
ness Enforced." Delivered at the time they were, we cannot 
doubt that they are specimens of the kind of sermons which 
Romaine usually preached at that period of his ministry. I 
think it impossible to read them without feeling deep regret 
that the Church of England in the west end of London has not 
had more of such preaching. 

Romaine's ministry, as assistant morning-preacher at St. 
George's, Hanover Square, began in April 1750 and ended in 
September 1755. During that time he preached occasionally 
at Bow Church, in exchange with Dr. Newton, afterwards Bishop 
of Bristol; and also at Curzon Chapel, then called St. George's, 
Mayfair, in exchange with the Rector. The circumstances 
under which he left St. George's are so remarkable that they 
deserve special notice. 

It appears that the office which he filled as assistant morning- 
preacher was not a regularly endowed and independent ap- 
pointment, but one entirely dependent on the Rector, and kept 
up at his own option, discretion, and expense. The Rector of 
St. George's, who first invited Romaine to take the office, and 
then at the end of five years removed him from it, was Dr. 
Andrew Trebeck. His appointment was owing to his high 
character and reputation, and not to personal friendship ; his 
removal was caused by the popularity and. plainness of his 
ministry. The real truth was, that his preaching attracted such 
crowds to the old parish-church, that the regular seat-holders 
took offence, and complained that they were put to inconve- 
nience. Strong pressure was brought to bear upon the Rector ; 
and he, "willing to please" the parishioners, gave Romaine 
notice to terminate his engagement. This notice he received 
quietly, saying, that "he was willing to relinquish the office, 
hoping that his doctrine had been Christian, and owning the 
inconvenience which had attended the parishioners." A more 
discreditable affair than this probably never disfigured the 



160 GRESHAM PROFESSOR OF ASTRONOMY. 

parochial annals of the diocese of London. An eminent and 
godly clergyman was removed from his post because he attracted 
too many hearers ! And yet, at this very time, scores of clergy- 
men in London churches were no doubt preaching every week 
to empty benches or to congregations of half-a-dozen people, 
without any one interfering with them ! 

It is consolatory to think that there was one parishioner at 
least in St. George's, Hanover Square, who made a noble pro- 
test against the treatment which Romaine received. This was 
the old Earl of Northampton. He rebuked those who com- 
plained that the parish-church was crowded, by reminding them 
that they bore the greater crowd of a ball-room, an assembly, 
or a play-house, without the least complaint. " If," said he, 
" the power to attract be imputed as a matter of admiration to 
Garrick, why should it be urged as a crime against Romaine % 
Shall excellence be considered exceptionable only in divine 
things % "—Another member of the congregation who is said to 
have adhered steadfastly to Romaine's cause at this juncture, 
was Mr. John Sanderson, afterwards state-coachman to George 
III. This worthy man lived to the great age of eighty-nine, 
and died in 1799, after long adorning the doctrine he professed 
by an exemplary and godly life. 

During the five years that Romaine was preaching at St. 
George's, he occupied for a short time the situation of Pro- 
fessor of Astronomy at Gresham College. There is little record 
extant of what he did in this office, and it is doubtful whether 
he was very successful in it. In all probability he was a much 
better theologian than an astronomer, and was better fitted for 
lecturing about Christ and heaven than about the sun, moon, 
and stars. But whatever credit he lost as a professor of astro- 
nomy, he retrieved a hundred-fold by his conduct about the 
Bill for removing Jewish disabilities. This he thought it his 
duty to oppose vehemently, to the great gratification of many 
citizens of London. In fact, his arguments were so highly 



MORNING-PREA CHER AT ST. OLA VESS, ETC. 1 1 

esteemed, that his various letters on the subject were collected 
into a pamphlet and reprinted by his friends in the City 

in 1753- 

From the date of Romaine's removal from St. George's, 
Hanover Square, until his appointment to the Rectory of St. 
Anne's, Blackfriars, we find him occupying several different 
positions, and never long in any one. The only post which he 
never vacated was the Lectureship of St. Dunstan's, Fleet 
Street. In the beginning of 1756 he became curate and morn- 
ing-preacher at St. Olave's, Southwark. He continued in this 
office until the year 1759, residing most of the time in Walnut 
Tree Walk, Lambeth. After leaving St. Olave's, he was morn- 
ing-preacher for two years at St. Bartholomew the Great, near 
West Smithfield. From thence he removed to Westminster 
Chapel, but only preached there six months. The abrupt 
termination of his engagement there was occasioned by a fresh 
piece of persecution. The Dean and Chapter of Westminster 
withdrew their patronage and protection from the chapel, and 
refused him their nomination for a licence to preach there. 
From this time he had no stated employment in the Church, 
except the Lectureship of St. Dunstan's, until he was chosen 
Rector of St. Anne's, Blackfriars, in 1766. 

We must not, however, suppose for a moment that Romaine 
was an idle man during the years when he had no settled 
employment in the morning of Sundays. He appears to have 
been constantly preaching charity sermons in London churches ; 
for which purpose, from his great popularity, his services were 
eagerly sought after. He also preached very frequently at the 
chapel of the Lock Hospital, upon the first institution of that 
charity. 

At this period of his life he was several times called upon to 
preach before the University of Oxford. This, however, came 
to an end after he had preached two sermons, entitled, " The 
Lord our Righteousness," on March 20, 1757, in St. Marv's. 

(195) 1 1 



1 6 2 GIVES GREA T OFFENCE. 

These sermons gave great offence, and he was never allowed 
to enter the University pulpit again after delivering them. They 
are to be found among his published works at the present day, 
and furnish a melancholy proof of the spiritual darkness in 
which Oxford was sunk a hundred years ago ! The governing 
body of an University which could exclude a man from its 
pulpit for preaching such doctrine as these sermons contain, 
must indeed have been in a miserably benighted state of mind. 
Romaine's dedication of them to Dr. Randolph, President of 
Corpus Christi, and Vice-chancellor of the University, is well 
worth reading. He says, " When I delivered these discourses 
I had no design to make them public ; but I have been since 
compelled to it. I understand they gave great offence, espe- 
cially to you, and I am in consequence thereof refused the uni- 
versity pulpit. In justice, not to myself, for I desire to be out 
of the question, but to the great doctrine here treated of, namely, 
the righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ, as the only ground 
of our acceptance and justification before God the Father, I 
have sent to the press what was delivered from the pulpit. I 
leave the friends of our Church to judge, whether there be any- 
thing herein advanced contrary to the Scriptures and to the 
doctrines of the Reformation. If not, I am safe. If there be, 
you are bound to make it appear. You have a good pen, and 
have great leisure ; make use of them ; and I hope and pray 
you may make use of them for your good and mine." Com- 
ment on the whole affair is needless. The treatment which 
Romaine received at Oxford was as little creditable to the Uni- 
versity as that which he received in the west end of London 
was to the parishioners of St. George's, Hanover Square. 

It was about this period of his life that Romaine became in- 
timate with the well-known Lady Huntingdon, who made him 
one of her domestic chaplains. In this capacity he used to 
preach frequently at her house, both in London and near 
Ashby-de-la-Zouch, and at the various chapels, or preaching- 



RECTOR OF ST. ANNE'S. 1 63 

houses, which she built at Brighton, Bath, and elsewhere. To 
her friendship, indeed, he was finally indebted for his appoint- 
ment to the Rectory of St. Anne's, Blackfriars, in the fifty-second 
year of his age. The circumstances, however, of his appoint- 
ment to this post, the history of his twenty-nine years' ministry 
in it, and some account of his writings, letters, and character, 
are matters which I shall reserve for another chapter. 



CHAPTER II. 

Rector of St. Anne's, Blackfriars, 1764 — Difficulties in the way of his Appointment — 
Letter to Lady Huntingdon — Usefulness at Blackfriars — Peculiarities of Address 
and Temperament — Last Illness and Dying Saying — Death 1795 — Public Funeral — 
Literary Remains. 

The biographer of William Romaine can hardly fail to observe 
that his life naturally divides itself into three portions. The 
first extends from his birth to the commencement of his London 
ministry in 1746. The second ranges from 1746 to his final 
settlement at St. Anne's, Blackfriars, in 1764. The third com- 
prises his ministry at Blackfriars, up to the time of his death 
in 1795. It is this third and last portion of his history which 
I propose to deal with in this chapter. 

Romaine's appointment to the rectory of St. Anne's, Black- 
friars, took place at a very critical period in his ministerial life. 
He was now about fifty years old. After preaching as a lec- 
turer in London for eighteen years, he was still without a stated 
position as the incumbent of a parish. Every door seemed 
shut against him. Opposition and persecution followed him 
wherever he went. It seemed, in short, a question whether he 
had not better give up London altogether, and turn his steps 
a j 1 elsewhere. Lord Dartmouth offered him a living in the 
:o J 'country. Whitefield urged him to accept a large church at 
'j I Philadelphia, in America. Hot-headed friends pressed him to 
^ let them build him a chapel. It seemed far from improbable 



1 64 HIS 10 VE FOR THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 

that he might fulfil the predictions of his enemies, and end by 
leaving the Church of England and becoming a regular 
dissenter. 

But Romaine had a very deep sense of the value of the 
Church of England. He loved her Articles and Prayer-Book 
with no common love. Whatever her defects in administra- 
tion, and however ill she treated her best children, he believed 
that the occupant of her pulpits had peculiar advantages ; and 
he steadfastly refused to leave her. He was catholic, and kind, 
and liberal to those who were not churchmen, and lived in 
habits of friendly communion with many of them. To this 
even John Wesley, Arminian as he was, bears strong testimony. 
In a letter to Lady Huntingdon, in 1763, he says, " Mr. Romaine 
has shown a truly sympathizing spirit, and acted like a brother." 
But nothing could induce him to give up his own position and 
become a Nonconformist. At this juncture he was greatly 
strengthened in his determination by the advice of that excel- 
lent clergyman, Walker of Truro. He resolved to stick by the 
Church in which he had been ordained, and to wait patiently 
for some door to be opened. His patience was at length re- 
warded. By a singular train of providences, he became rector 
of an important parish in the City, and there spent the last 
twenty-nine years of his life in the undisturbed exercise of his 
ministry. 

The circumstances under which Romaine was appointed to 
his new sphere of duty were somewhat remarkable. The 
patronage of the united parish of St. Andrew by the Wardrobe 
with St. Anne's, Blackfriars, is vested in the Lord-Chancellor 
and the parishioners alternately. The immediate predecessor 
of Romaine was Mr. Henley, nephew of the then Lord-Chan- 
cellor Henley. He only held the living about six years, and 
died of putrid fever, caught in visiting a parishioner. Upon 
his death the appointment fell to the turn of the parishioners ; 
and at once some friends of Romaine, without his knowledge 



PR OB A TIONA R Y SERMON. 1 6 5 

and consent, resolved to nominate him as a candidate for the 
vacant living. It was soon found that at least two-thirds of the 
parishioners were in his favour ; and though he refused to can- 
vass for votes himself, his interest was warmly supported by 
Lady Huntingdon, Mr. Thornton, and Mr. Madan. 

There were two other candidates beside Romaine, and in 
accordance with the custom on such occasions, he was called 
on to preach a probationary sermon before the parishioners. 
This sermon, preached on September 30, 1764, from 2 Cor. 
iv. 5, is to be found among his printed works, and is credit- 
able both to his heart and head. One part of it, in which he 
assigned his reason for not canvassing the electors in person, 
deserves particular notice. He says, — 

" Some have insinuated that it was from pride that I would not 
go about the parish, from house to house, canvassing for votes ; 
but truly it was from another motive, — I could not see how this 
could promote the glory of God. How can it be for the 
honour of Jesus that his ministers, who have renounced fame, 
riches, and ease, should be most anxious and earnest in the 
pursuit of those very things which they have renounced? 
Surely this would be getting into a worldly spirit, as much as 
the spirit of parliamenteering. And as this method of can- 
vassing cannot be for Jesus' sake, so neither is it for our honour; 
it is far beneath our function : nor is it for your profit. What 
good is it to your souls — what compliment to your under- 
standing — what advantage to you, in any shape, to be directed 
and applied to by every person with whom you have any con- 
nection, or on whom you have any dependence? Is not this 
depriving you of the freedom of your choice 1 Determined by 
these motives, when my friends, of their own accord, put me 
up as a candidate, to whom I have to this hour made no appli- 
cation, directly or indirectly, I left you to yourselves. If you 
choose me, I desire to be your servant for Jesus' sake; and if 
you do not, the will of the Lord be done/' 



1 66 DIFFICULTIES AND OPPOSITION OVERCOME. 

It deserves notice that this sermon did the preacher's cause 
no harm, but rather operated in his favour. It was well 
received by the parishioners, and was published at their 
request. 

Notwithstanding the strong support Romaine received, his 
appointment was not finally secured without great difficulty and 
opposition. A hotly contested election, a poll, a scrutiny arid 
an appeal to the Court of Chancery, interposed between the 
first movement of his friends and the final accomplishment of 
their wishes. At length, after eighteen months' delay, all ob- 
stacles were overcome, a decree was given in his favour by Lord 
Henley, and he was instituted and inducted rector of St. Anne's, 
Blackfriars, in February 1766. No one, perhaps, throughout 
this anxious period of suspense, worked more heartily in his 
behalf than Lady Huntingdon. She saw clearly the immense 
importance of such a champion of Christ's gospel being settled 
in a prominent position in London ; and she left no stone un- 
turned to secure his success. Help, too, was raised up in some 
quarters of a most unexpected kind. A publican in the parish 
is said to have been one of his most active supporters and can- 
vassers ; and at first no one could understand the reason. But 
after all was over, on Romaine's calling on him to thank him, 
the worthy publican replied, " Indeed, sir, I am more indebted 
to you than you to me ; for you have made my wife, who was 
one of the worst, the best woman in the world." 

Romaine entered on his new sphere with a very deep sense 
of his own insufficiency. He who intended him to be a wise 
master-builder, taught him to lay a sound foundation of self- 
abasement and humility. His own letters on the occasion of 
his election give a very graphic picture of his feelings. 

In one he says : " My friends are rejoicing all around me, 
and wishing me a joy that I cannot take. It is my Master's 
will, and I submit. He knows best what is for his own glory 
and his people's good ; and I am certain he makes no mistakes 



LE TTER TO LADY HUNTINGD ON. 1 67 

on either of these points. But my head hangs down upon the 
occasion, through the awful apprehension which I ever had of 
the care of souls. I am frightened to think of watching over 
two or three thousands, when it is work enough to watch over 
one. The plague of my own heart almost wearies me to 
death ; what can I do with so vast a number ?" 

In a letter to Lady Huntingdon, of the same date, he says : 
" Now, when I was setting up my rest, and had begun to say 
unto my soul, Soul, take thine ease, I am called into a public 
station, and to the sharpest engagement, just as I had got into 
winter quarters. I can see nothing before me, so long as breath 
is in my body, but war; and that with unreasonable men, a 
divided parish, an angry clergy, and a wicked world, all to be 
resisted and overcome. Besides all these, a sworn enemy, 
subtle and cruel, with whom I can make no peace — no, not a 
moment's time, night and day — with all his children and his 
host, is aiming at my destruction. When I take counsel of the 
flesh I begin to faint ; but when I go to the sanctuary, I see 
my good cause, and my almighty Master and true Friend, and 
then he makes my courage revive. Although I am no way fit 
for the work, yet he called me to it, and on him I depend for 
strength to do it, and for success to crown it. I utterly de- 
spair of doing anything as of myself, and therefore the more 
I have to do, the more I shall be forced to live by faith on 
Him. In this view I hope to get a great income by my 
living. I shall want Jesus more, and shall get closer to him." 

Whatever anticipations of trouble Romaine may have formed 
in his mind, he met with comparatively little at Blackfriars. 
In fact, his twenty-nine years' ministry there, compared to his 
earlier days, was a season of quietness. Enemies and oppo- 
nents no doubt he had, like every faithful clergyman who 
preaches the gospel. But they could do little to disturb him. 
The result was that the latter years of his life, though not 
less useful than the former, were certainly less eventful. Like 



1 68 USEFULNESS A T BLA CKFRIARS. 

the river that at first dashes brawling down the mountain -side, 
but glides silently along when it reaches the plains and becomes 
navigable, so Romaine's ministry from the time of his settle- 
ment at Blackfriars, though it made less noise, was probably 
more beneficial to the Church of Christ. He necessarily 
became less of an itinerant and missionary preacher. The 
claims of his own parish and pulpit obliged him to stay much 
at home, and absorbed much of his time and attention. But 
his usefulness, whatever some hasty judges might think, was 
not only not diminished, but was probably much increased. 

The plain truth is, that as rector of a London parish, Romaine 
became a rallying point for all in London who loved evangelical 
truth in the Church of England. Man after man, and family 
after family, gathered round his pulpit, until his congregation 
became the nucleus of a vast amount of good in the metro- 
polis. His constant, unflinching declaration of Christ's whole 
truth insensibly produced a powerful impression on men's 
minds, and made them understand what a true clergyman of 
the Church of England ought to be. His undeniable learning 
made him an adversary that few cared to cope with, and 
gave a weight to his assertions which they did not always pos- 
sess when they came from the lips of half-educated men. His 
position gave him peculiar advantages. Almost within sight 
both of St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey, he held a post from 
which he was always ready to go forth and do battle, either 
with tongue or pen. If error arose rampant, he was on the 
spot prepared to attack it. If truth was assaulted, he was 
equally prepared to sally forth and defend it. In short, the 
good that he did, as rector of Blackfriars, though less showy, 
was probably more solid and permanent than the good that he 
did all the rest of his life. 

To attempt to chronicle all the events of his life during his 
twenty-nine years at Blackfriars would be of little use, even if 
we possessed materials for doing it. From the very beginning 



HIS ADDRESS AND TEMPERAMENT. 169 

of his incumbency, he took great pains to have the services of 
his church conducted with strict reverence and good order. 
Like many other clergymen, he never rested till he had put the 
fabric of his church in good repair, had built a good parsonage, 
and made the parochial schools thoroughly efficient. These 
things once accomplished, he gave himself entirely to the 
direct work of his office. He was never idle, and seldom 
passed a silent Sabbath. Preaching, visiting, writing for the 
press, or corresponding with the many who asked his advice, 
occupied nearly all his time to his life's end. 

He was not perhaps what would be called now-a-days a 
"genial" man. He was " naturally close and reserved," says 
Cadogan, " irritable to a certain degree, short and quick in 
•his replies, and frequently mistaken as being rude and morose 
where he meant nothing of the kind. Had he paid more 
attention than he did to the various distresses of soul and body 
which were brought before him, he would have had no time 
left for reading, meditation, and prayer, and, in short, for 
what every man must attend to in private who would be use- 
ful in public. It was not uncommon for him to tell those 
who came to him with cases of conscience and questions of 
spiritual concern, that he said all he had to say in the pul- 
pit. Thus people might be hurt for the moment by such a dis- 
missal, but they had only to attend his preaching, and they 
soon found that their difficulties had impressed him as well 
as themselves ; that they had been submitted to God, and that 
they had been the subject of his serious and affectionate con- 
sideration." 

These observations of Cadogan's deserve special attention. 
Romaine, unhappily, is not the only minister whose reputation 
has suffered from gross misrepresentation and misconstruction. 
Few men, unfortunately, are so liable to be unfairly judged as 
ministers who fill prominent posts, and are eminent for gifts 
and graces. Even Christians are too ready to set them down 



170 ANECDOTES OF ROMAINE. 

as haughty, proud, cold, distant, reserved, and unsocial, without 
any just ground for so doing. The immense demands con- 
tinually made on their time and strength, the many private 
difficulties they frequently have to contend with, the absolute | 
necessity they are under of much daily reading, meditation, and 
communion with God — all these things are too often entirely \ 
forgotten. Many indeed are the wounds of feeling which minis- 
ters have to endure from the unkind remarks of unreasonable 
friends. The cup which Romaine had to drink is a cup which 
many clergymen have to drink in the present day. 

The few anecdotes preserved about Romaine are all some- i 
what characteristic of the man as Cadogan describes him. 
They all give the idea of one who was short and abrupt to an 
extreme in his communications ; so much so, in fact, that we 
can quite understand captious people being offended by him. 
And yet the anecdotes always tend to prove that he was a man J 
of no common graces, gifts, and good sense. 

He was one evening invited to a friend's house, and, after 3 
tea, the lady of the house asked him to play at cards, to which I 
he made no objection. The cards were brought out, and when 
all were ready to begin playing, Romaine said, " Let us ask j 
the blessing of God." "Ask the blessing of God!" saii the 
lady in great surprise ; " I never heard of such a thing before a 
game of cards." Romaine then inquired, " Ought we to engage 
in anything on which we cannot ask God's blessing ?" This 
reproof put an end to the card-playing. 

On another occasion he was addressed by a lady, who ex- 
pressed the great pleasure she had enjoyed under his preaching, 
and added that she could comply with his requirements, with 
the exception of one thing. "And what is that?" asked Ro- 
maine. " Cards, sir," was the reply. " You think you could 
not be happy without them?" " No, sir, I know I could not." 
" Then, madam." said he, " cards are your god, and they must 
save you." It is recorded that this pointed remark led to 



THE DISSENTING MINISTER. 17 1 

serious reflections, and finally to the abandonment of card- 
playing. 

When the unhappy Dr. Dodd was sentenced to death for 
forgery, Romaine, among others, felt a deep and melancholy 
interest about him. There was once a time when he and Dodd 
had been on terms of intimacy, from their common zeal for 
the prosecution of Hebrew learning. When, however, poor 
Dodd began to love the world better than Christ, the intimacy 
gradually ceased, and he actually told Romaine that he hoped 
he would not acknowledge him if they met in public ! Before 
his execution, Romaine visited him in Newgate at his particular 
request, and many were anxious to know what he thought of 
the prisoner's spiritual state. But the only answer that could 
be extracted from him was this : " I hope he may be a real 
penitent ; but there is a great difference between saying, ' God 
be merciful to me a sinner,' and really feeling it." 

Short and abrupt as the rector of Blackfriars evidently was in 
his demeanour, he was very sensible of his own deficiencies of 
temper, and very willing to confess himself in the wrong. On 
one occasion a dissenting minister who often attended his lec- 
tures, called on him to complain of some severe reflections 
which he thought Romaine had made upon Dissenters. Having 
made his complaint, Romaine replied, " I do not want to have 
anything to say to you, sir." — " If you will hear me," added the 
other, " I will tell you my name and profession. I am a Pro- 
testant dissenting minister." — " Sir," said Romaine, " I neither 
wish to know your name nor your profession." Upon this the 
unfortunate Nonconformist bowed and took his leave. Not 
long after Romaine, to the great surprise of his hearer and 
reprover, returned the visit, and after the usual salutation, be- 
gan : " Well, Mr. T., I am not come to renounce my principles, 
I have not changed my sentiments, I will not give up my 
preference for the Church of England ; but I am come as a 
Christian to make some apology. I think my behaviour to you 



1 7 2 HIS LA TTER YEARS. 

sir, the other day, was not becoming, nor such as it should have 
been." They then shook hands, and parted good friends. 

Romaine's last illness found him still doing his Father's 
business, and happy in his work. He lived to the great age of 
eighty-one, and enjoyed the full use of his faculties to the very 
last. During the last ten years of his life he seems to have 
become greatly mellowed and softened, and to have been a 
beautiful example of that lovely sight, a godly old man, " a 
hoary head found in the way of righteousness." He went 
gradually down the valley toward the river, with all the golden 
richness of a setting sun in summer. There appeared to be 
little but heaven in his sermons or in his life ; and, like dying 
Baxter, he spoke of his future home with great familiarity, like 
one who had already seen it. 

It was well remarked by some of his friends, in these last 
days of his ministry, that he was a true diamond, naturally rough 
and pointed, but the more he was broken by years the more he 
appeared to shine. There was often a light upon his coun- 
tenance — and particularly when he preached — which looked 
like the dawn, or a faint appearance of glory. If any one asked 
him how he did, his general answer was, " As well as I can be 
out of heaven." He made this reply, shortly before his death, 
to a friend of a different communion, and then added, " There 
is but one central point, in which we must all meet — Jesus 
Christ and him crucified." This was the object which he 
always kept in sight — the wonderful God-man, whom, according 
to his own words, " He had taken for body and for soul, for 
time and for eternity, his present and everlasting all." 

Romaine's simple and regular habits of life, no doubt, had 
much to say to his length of days and vigorous old age. There 
are ministers, unquestionably, who seem independent of regular 
food and hours, and whose iron constitutions appear to stand 
any strain. But their number is small. Of Romaine, Cadogan 
says, " His hour of breakfast was six in the morning ; of dinner, 



HIS LAST SERMONS. 1 73 

half-past one in the afternoon; and of supper, seven in the even- 
ing. His family were assembled to prayer at nine o'clock in 
the morning, and at the same hour at night. His Hebrew 
Psalter was his constant companion at breakfast, and he often 
said how much his first repast was sanctified by the Word of 
God and prayer. From ten o'clock to one he was generally 
employed in visiting the sick and friends. He retired to his 
study after dinner, and sometimes walked again after supper in 
summer. After evening service in his family, he retired again 
to his study, and to his bed at ten. From this mode of living 
he never deviated, except when he was a guest in the house of 
friends ; and then he breakfasted at seven, dined at two, and 
supped at eight. His adherence to rules, in this respect, was 
never more marked than in a circumstance which happened 
during the last years of his life. He was invited by an eminent 
dignitary of the Church to dine with him at five o'clock. He 
felt respect for the inviter, and wished to show it. Instead, 
therefore, of sending a written apology, he waited upon him 
himself, thanked him for the invitation, and excused himself by 
pleading his long habits of early hours, his great age, and his 
often infirmities." 

Romaine's death-bed was a beautiful illustration of the truth 
of John Wesley's saying, " Our people die well ! The world 
may find fault with our opinions, but the world cannot deny 
that our people die well." This was eminently the case with 
Romaine. His fatal illness attacked him on Saturday, the 6th 
of June 1795, and put an end to his life on the 26th of July. 
The last sermon which he preached was on the preceding 
Thursday evening at St. Dunstan's. It was an exposition of 
the eighteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel; and he remarked 
to his curate that he must get on as fast as he could, lest he 
should not get through the Gospel before the lectures closed 
for the summer. His concluding sermon at Blackfriars was on 
the preceding Tuesday morning, from the thirteenth verse of 



1 7 4 HIS LAST ILLNESS. 

the 103rd Psalm — "Like as a father pitieth his children, so the 
Lord pitieth them that fear him." These dates are worthy of 
special notice. This fine old servant of Christ, at the age of 
eighty-one, was evidently preaching at least three days in every 
week ! 

From the moment he was seized with his illness, he con- 
sidered it to be his last; and though he had occasional 
symptoms of recovery during the seven weeks that his illness 
continued, he never entered the pulpit again. He spoke of 
himself as a dying man, but always as one that had peace 
in believing. On the morning of his seizure he came down to 
breakfast as usual, in the house at Balham Hill, where he was 
staying, and presided in family devotion. It was observed that 
he prayed most earnestly to God that " he would fit them for, 
and support them in their trials that day, which might be many." 
He returned the same day to his own house in London, and 
conversed most profitably and comfortably in the way, on the 
approach of death and near prospect of eternity. He said, 
" How animating is the view which I have now of death, and 
the hope laid up for me in heaven, full of glory and immor- 
tality !" On arriving at home his last illness struck him. 

He continued at his own house in London under medical 
advice for three weeks, and used all the means which his physi- 
cian thought fit to prescribe. But he said, "You are taking 
much pains to prop up this feeble body ; I thank you for it : 
it will not do now." His Hebrew Psalter lay close by him, 
and out of it he frequently read a verse or two, not being able 
to attend to more. From the nature of his illness he could 
speak but little ; and being once asked if he would see some of 
his friends, he replied, " He needed no better company than he 
enjoyed." 

" On the 26th of June," says his biographer, Cadogan, " he 
left town, and went to a friend's house at Tottenham for a 
fortnight, where he was so much better that he was able to 



HIS D YING SA YINGS. 1 7 5 

walk about the garden. Upon his return to town, he told his 
curate that he had laid long in the arms of death, and if re- 
covering, it was very slowly. ' But,' said he, ' this is but a poor 
dying life at best ; however, I am in His hands who will do the 
best for me; I am sure of that. I have lived to experience all 
I have spoken and all I have written, and I bless God for it.' — 
To another friend he said, ' I have the peace of God in my 
conscience, and the love of God in my heart ; and that, you 
know, is sound experience. I knew before that the doctrines I 
preached were truths, but now I experience them to be bless- 
ings.' — Thanking another friend for a visit, he told him ' that 
he had come to see a saved sinner.' — This he often affirmed 
should be his dying breath ; he desired to die with the lan- 
guage of the publican in his mouth — ' God be merciful to me 
a sinner !' " 

He continued in London for a few days in this blessed frame 
of mind, and then returned on the 13th of July to the house of 
his friend, Mr. Whitridge, at Balham Hill, where he had been 
the day that he was first taken ill. From this date his strength 
rapidly decayed, but his faith and patience never failed him. 
He was often saying, " How good is God ! What comforts 
does he give me ! What a prospect do I see before me of glory 
and immortality ! He is my God in life, in death, and through- 
out eternity." On the 23rd of July, as he sat at breakfast, he 
said, " It is now nearly sixty years since God opened my mouth 
to publish the everlasting sufficiency and eternal glory of the 
salvation in Christ Jesus ; and it has now pleased him to shut 
my mouth, that my heart might feel and experience what my 
mouth has so often spoken." 

On the 24th of July, after being helped down-stairs for the 
last time, he said, " Oh, how good is God ! With what a night 
has he favoured me !" requesting at the same time that prayer 
without ceasing might be made for him, that his faith and 
patience might not fail. He spoke with great kindness and 



176 HIS DEATH. 

affection of his wife ; and, thanking her for all her care of him, 
said, " Come, my love, that I may bless*you : the Lord be with 
you a covenant God for ever to save and bless you ! " — Mrs. 
Whitridge, in whose house he was dying, on seeing and hearing 
him bless his wife, said, " Have you not a blessing for me, sir?" 
" Yes," he replied ; " I pray God to bless you." And so he 
said to every one that came to him. 

On Saturday the 25 th of July he was not able to get down 
stairs, but lay upon a couch all day, in great weakness of body, 
but strong in faith, giving glory to God, and the power of Christ 
resting on him. Towards the close of the day some thought 
they heard him say, " Though I walk through the valley of the 
shadow of death I will fear no evil, for thou art with me." — 
About an hour before his death, Mr. Whitridge, his host and 
friend, said, " I hope, my dear sir, you now find the salvation 
of Jesus Christ precious, dear, and valuable to you." His answer 
was, " He is a precious Saviour to me now." These were the 
last words he spoke to man. To the Lord he was heard to 
say, " Holy ! holy ! holy ! blessed Jesus ! to thee be endless 
praise !" About midnight, as the Sabbath began, he breathed 
his last, and entered that eternal rest which remains for the 
people of God. Well saith the Scriptures, " Mark the perfect 
man, and behold the upright : for the end of that man is peace " 
(Ps. xxxvii. 37). 

Romaine's friends and relations had fully intended to give 
him a private funeral. But this proved impossible. The many 
hearers of a minister who had preached the gospel in London 
for forty-five years could not be prevented showing their respect 
and affection by following him to the grave. Scores looked up 
to him as their spiritual father. Hundreds venerated his char- 
acter and consistency, even though they did not fully embrace 
the gospel he had preached. The consequence was that his 
funeral, in spite of all wishes and intentions, was a peculiarly 
public one. Fifty coaches followed the hearse from Clapham 



PUBLIC FUNERAL. 177 

Common, besides many persons on foot. By the time the 
procession reached the obelisk in St. George's Fields, the mul- 
titude collected was very great indeed ; but silence, solemnity, 
and decorum prevailed. At the foot of Blackfriars' Bridge the 
city marshals were waiting with their men in black silk scarfs 
and hatbands, and rode before the hearse to the entrance of 
the church. They had been ordered out by the lord mayor, as 
his token of respect for the memory of a man whose character 
had stood so high in the city of London. Thus went to his 
long home on August 3rd, 1795, amidst every outward mark of 
respect and affection, the venerable rector of Blackfriars. At 
the end of his long forty-five years' ministry no one lifted up his 
tongue against him. The winds and waves of persecution had 
at length ceased. He had fairly lived down all opposition, and 
he died honoured and lamented. So true is that word of Scrip- 
ture, " When a man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even 
his enemies to be at peace with him" (Prov. xvi. 7). 

Romaine was once married, though rather later in life than 
many ministers. His wife was a Miss Price, and, as we have 
already seen, she survived him. He had children, of whom one 
son died at Trincomalee in 1782^0 his great sorrow. Another 
son was with him in his last illness, of whom he spoke with 
great affection, expressing his hope of him as a son in the faith, 
as well as a son in the flesh. Of his other children I can find 
no account. 

Most of Romaine's literary works are so well known that I 
need not trouble my readers with any account of them. His 
largest work, " The Life, Walk, and Triumph of Faith," has 
been often reprinted, and holds a respectable position among 
English evangelical classics. His " Twelve Sermons on the 
Law and the Gospel" have also been more than once repub- 
lished, and in my judgment deservedly so. I regard it as the 
best and most valuable work he ever sent to the press. His 
expository sermons on the 107th Psalm and on Solomon's Song 



1 7 8 HIS LITER A R Y REMAINS. 

are not so well known as they ought to be. The latter espe- 
cially throws more light on a most difficult book of Scripture 
than many works of much higher pretensions. His single ser- 
mons are of course very little known. But no one who wants 
to get a just idea of the kind of preacher Romaine was, should 
omit to read them. For simplicity, pith, point, and forcible- 
ness, — for short, true, vigorous sentences, — they will bear a 
favourable comparison with almost any evangelical sermons of 
the last century. 

Many of his letters in his published correspondence are very 
valuable. Like John Newton, he wrote in days when the 
modern machinery of societies, committee meetings, Exeter Hall 
gatherings, &c, was totally unknown, and when a man had 
more leisure to write long letters than he has now. Those who 
like reading Newton's " Cardiphonia" and " Omicron," would 
find Romaine's correspondence well worth perusing. Christ 
and the Bible are the two golden threads which seem to run 
through all his letters. 

Perhaps, after all, one of the most useful publications that 
Romaine ever sent forth is one that is hardly known at all. I 
may be wrong, but my firm belief is, that my estimate of its 
usefulness will be found correct at the last day. The publica- 
tion I refer to is called " An Earnest Invitation to the Friends of 
the Established Church to join with several of their brethren, 
clergy and laity, in London, in setting apart an hour of every 
week for Prayer and Supplication during the present trouble- 
some times." There is strong reason to believe that this little 
publication was made eminently useful when it first appeared, 
and has led to an amazing succession of supplications, inter- 
cessions, and prayers down to the present day. It was beyond 
all doubt a move in the right direction. It sent men to Him 
who alone has all hearts in his hands, and alone can revive his 
Church in dead times. Who can tell but that much of the 
Spirit's work in the last sixty years will be found at last to have 



RETROSPECT OF HIS LIFE. 179 

been the answer to Romaine's prayers? One fact, at any rate, 
deserves to be specially remembered. When Romaine first sent 
forth this Invitation in 1757, he only knew about a dozen cler- 
gymen in all England who were willing to unite with him, and 
join his scheme of prayer. But when he died, in 1795, he 
reckoned that the number of like-minded men in the Establish- 
ment had swelled to at least three hundred. That fact alone 
speaks for itself. 

I leave the fourth spiritual hero of the eighteenth century 
here, and ask my readers to give his name the honour that it 
deserves. He had not all the popular gifts of some of his con- 
temporaries. He had not the genial attractive characteristics 
of many in his day. But take him for all in all, he was a great 
man, and a mighty instrument in God's hand for good. He 
stood in a most prominent position in London for forty-five 
years, testifying the gospel of the grace of God, and never 
flinching for a day. He stood alone, with almost no backers, 
supporters, or fellow-labourers. He stood in the same place, 
constantly preaching to the same hearers, and not able, like 
Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw, and other itinerant brethren, to 
preach old sermons. He stood there witnessing to truths which 
were most unpopular, and brought down on him opposition, 
persecution, and scorn. He stood in a most public post, con- 
tinually watched, observed, and noticed by unfriendly eyes, 
ready to detect faults in a moment if he committed them. Yet, 
during all these forty-five years, he maintained a blameless 
character, firmly upheld his first principles to the last, and died 
at length, like a good soldier at his post, full of days and honour. 
The man of whom these things can be said must have been no 
common man. It is place and position that specially prove 
what we are. In England one hundred years ago there were 

'<■ not four spiritual champions greater and more honourable than 

-William Romaine. 



VII. 

ganiel $jtotolanbs mib ^b glimsfrg» 




CHAPTER I. 

Born in Wales 1713 — Educated at Hereford, and never at a University — Ordained 1733— 
Curate of Llangeitho — An Altered Man in 1738 — Extraordinary Effect of his Preaching 
— Extra-parochial and Out-door Preaching — License Withdrawn by the Bishop in 
1763 — Continues to Preach in a Chapel at Llangeitho — Died 1790 — Account of his 
Portrait. 

[NE of the greatest spiritual champions of the last cen- 
tury, whom I wish to introduce to my readers in this 
chapter, is one who is very little known. The man 
I mean is the Rev. Daniel Rowlands of Llangeitho in Cardi- 
ganshire. Thousands of my countrymen, I suspect, have some 
little acquaintance with Whitefield, Wesley, and Romaine, who 
never even heard the name of the great apostle of Wales. 

That such should be the case need not surprise us. Rowlands 
was a Welsh clergyman, and seldom preached in the English 
language. He resided in a very remote part of the Princi- 
pality, and hardly ever came to London. His ministry was 
almost entirely among the middle and lower classes in about 
five counties in Wales. These circumstances alone are enough 
to account for the fact that so few people know anything about 
him. Whatever the causes may be, there are not many English- 
men who understand Welsh, or can even pronounce the names 
of the parishes where Rowlands used to preach. In the face 



DANIEL ROWLANDS, THE WELSH PREACHER. 181 

of these circumstances, we have no right to be surprised if his 
reputation has been confined to the land of his nativity. 

In addition to all this, we must remember that no biographical 
account of Rowlands was ever drawn up by his contemporaries. 
Materials for such an account were got together by one of his 
sons, and forwarded to Lady Huntingdon. Her death, un- 
fortunately, immediately afterwards, prevented these materials 
being used, and what became of them after her death has never 
been ascertained. The only memoirs of Rowlands are two 
lives, written by clergymen who are still living. They are 
both excellent and useful in their way, but of course they labour 
under the disadvantage of having been drawn up long after the 
mighty subject of them had passed away.* These two volumes, 
and some very valuable information which I have succeeded in 
obtaining from a kind correspondent in Wales, are the only 
mines of matter to which I have had access in drawing up this 
memoir. 

Enough, however, and more than enough, is extant, to prove 
that Daniel Rowlands, in the highest sense, was one of the 
spiritual giants of the last century. It is a fact that Lady 
Huntingdon, no mean judge of clergymen, had the highest 
opinion of Rowlands. Few r people had better opportunities of 
forming a judgment of preachers than she had, and she thought 
Rowlands was second only to Whitefield. It is a fact that no 
British preacher of the last century kept together in one district 
such enormous congregations of souls for fifty years as Row- 
lands did. It is a fact, above all, that no man a hundred years 
ago seems to have preached with such unmistakable power of 
the Holy Ghost accompanying him as Rowlands. These are 
great isolated facts that cannot be disputed. Like the few 

* The memoirs of Rowlands to which I refer are two small volumes by the Rev. John 
Owen, Rector of Thrussington, and the Rev. E. Morgan, Vicar of Syston, both in the 
county of Leicester. The private information which I have received has been supplied by 
a relative of the great Welsh apostle, though not in lineal descent, the Rev. William Row- 
lands of Fishguard, South Wales. Some few facts, it may be interesting to my readers to 
know, come from an old man of eighty-five, who, when a boy, heard Rowlands preach. 



182 BORN A T PANT- Y-BEUD Y. 

scattered bones of extinct mammoths and mastodons, they 
speak volumes to all who have an ear to hear. They tell us 
that, in considering and examining Daniel Rowlands, we are 
dealing with no common man. 

Daniel Rowlands was born in the year 17 13, at Pant-y-beudy 
in the parish of Llancwnlle, near Llangeitho, Cardiganshire. 
He was the second son of the Rev. Daniel Rowlands, rector of 
Llangeitho, by Jennet, his wife. When a child of three years 
old, he had a narrow escape of death, like John Wesley. A 
large stone fell down the chimney on the very spot where he 
had been sitting two minutes before, which, had he not pro- 
videntially moved from his place, must have killed him. 
Nothing else is known of the first twenty years of his life, 
except the fact that he received his education at Hereford 
Grammar School, and that he lost his father when he was 
eighteen years old. It appears, from a tablet in Llangeitho 
Church, that when Rowlands was born, his father was fifty-four 
and his mother forty-five years old. His father's removal could 
not therefore have been a premature event, as he must have 
attained the ripe age of seventy-two. 

From some cause or other, of which we can give no account, 
Rowlands appears to have gone to no University. His father's 
death may possibly have made a difference in the circumstances 
of the family. At any rate, the next fact we hear about him 
after his father's death, is his ordination in London at the early 
age of twenty, in the year 1733. He was ordained by letters 
dimissory from the Bishop of St. David's, and it is recorded, as 
a curious proof both of his poverty and his earnestness of 
character, that he went to London on foot. 

The title on which Rowlands was ordained was that of curate 
to his elder brother John, who had succeeded his father, and 
held the three adjacent livings of Llangeitho, Llancwnlle, and 
Llandewibrefi. He seems to have entered on his ministerial 
duties like thousands in his day — without the slightest ade- 



HIS EARL Y LIFE. 1 83 

quate sense of his responsibilities, and utterly ignorant of the 
gospel of Christ. According to Owen he was a good classical 
scholar, and had made rapid progress at Hereford School in all 
secular learning. But in the neighbourhood where he was born 
and began his ministry, he is reported never to have given any 
proof of fitness to be a minister. He was only known as a 
man remarkable for natural vivacity, of middle size, of a firm 
make, of quick and nimble action, very adroit and successful in 
all games and athletic amusements, and as ready as any one, 
after doing duty in church on Sunday morning, to spend the 
rest of God's day in sports and revels, if not in drunkenness. 
Such was the character of the great apostle of Wales for some 
time after his ordination ! He was never likely, afterwards, to 
forget St. Paul's words to the Corinthians, " Such were some 
of you" (1 Cor. vi. 11), or to doubt the possibility of anyone's 
conversion. 

The precise time and manner of Rowlands' conversion are 
points involved in much obscurity. According to Morgan, the 
first thing that awakened him out of his spiritual slumber, was 
the discovery that, however well he tried to preach, he could 
not prevent one of his congregations being completely thinned 
by a dissenting minister named Pugh. It is said that this made 
him alter his sermons, and adopt a more awakening and alarm- 
ing style of address. According to Owen, he was first brought 
to himself by hearing a well-known excellent clergyman, named 
Griffith Jones, preach at Llandewibrefi. On this occasion his 
appearance, as he stood in the crowd before the pulpit, is said 
to have been so full of vanity, conceit, and levity, that Mr. 
Jones stopped in his sermon and offered a special prayer for 
him, that God would touch his heart, and make him an instru- 
ment for turning souls from darkness to light. This prayer is 
said to have had an immense effect on Rowlands, and he is 
reported to have been a different man from that day. I do not 
attempt to reconcile the two accounts. I can quite believe 



i»4 A CHANGED MAN 

that both are true. When the Holy Ghost takes in hand the 
conversion of a soul, he often causes a variety of circumstances 
to concur and co-operate in producing it. This, I am sure, 
would be the testimony of all experienced believers. Owen 
got hold of one set of facts, and Morgan of another. Both 
happened probably about the same time, and both probably 
are true. 

One thing, at any rate, is very certain. From about the year 
1738, when Rowlands was twenty-five, a complete change came 
over his life and ministry. He began to preach like a man in 
earnest, and to speak and act like one who had found out that 
sin, and death, and judgment, and heaven, and hell, were great 
realities. Gifted beyond most men with bodily and mental 
qualifications for the work of the pulpit, he began to consecrate 
himself wholly to it, and threw himself, body, and soul, and 
mind, into his sermons. The consequence, as might be ex 
pected, was an enormous amount of popularity. The churches 
where he preached were crowded to suffocation. The effect of 
his ministry, in the way of awakening and arousing sinners, was 
something tremendous. " The impression," says Morgan, " on 
the hearts of most people, was that of awe and distress, and as 
if they saw the end of the world drawing near, and hell ready 
to swallow them up. His fame soon spread throughout the 
country, and people came from all parts to hear him. Not 
only the churches were filled, but also the churchyards. It is 
said that, under deep conviction, numbers of the people lay 
down on the ground in the churchyard of Llancwnlle, and it 
was not easy for a person to pass by without stumbling against 
some of them." 

At this very time, however curious it may seem, it is clear 
that Rowlands did not preach the full gospel. His testimony 
was unmistakably truth, but still it was not the whole truth. He 
painted the spirituality and condemning power of the law in 
such vivid colours that his hearers trembled before him, and 



PREACHES THE LAW. 185 

cried out for mercy. But he did not yet lift up Christ crucified 
in all his fulness, as a refuge, a physician, a redeemer, and a 
friend \ and hence, though many were wounded, they were not 
healed. How long he continued preaching in this strain it is, 
at this distance of time, extremely difficult to say. So far as I 
can make out by comparing dates, it went on for about four 
years. The work that he did for God in this period, I have no 
doubt, was exceedingly useful, as a preparation for the message 
of later days. I, for one, believe that there are places, and 
times, and seasons, and congregations, in which powerful 
preaching of the law is of the greatest value. I strongly sus- 
pect that many evangelical congregations in the present day 
would be immensely benefited by a broad, powerful exhibition 
of God's law. But that there was too much law in Rowlands' 
preaching for four years after his conversion, both for his own 
Comfort and the good of his hearers, is very evident from the 
fragmentary accounts that remain of his ministry. 

The means by which the mind of Rowlands was gradually 
led into the full light of the gospel have not been fully explained 
by his biographers. Perhaps the simplest explanation will be 
found in our Lord Jesus Christ's words, " If any man will do 
his will, he shall know of the doctrine" (John vii. 17). Row- 
lands was evidently a man who honestly lived up to his light, 
and followed on to know the Lord. His Master took care 
that he did not long walk in darkness, but showed him " the 
light of life." One principal instrument of guiding him into 
the whole truth was that same Mr. Pugh who, at an earlier 
period, had thinned his congregation ! He took great interest 
in Rowlands at this critical era in his spiritual history, and 
gave him much excellent advice. " Preach the gospel, dear 
sir," he would say ; " preach the gospel to the people, and 
apply the balm of Gilead, the blood of Christ, to their spiritual 
wounds, and show the necessity of faith in the crucified Saviour." 
Happy indeed are young ministers who have an Aquila or 



1 86 EFFECT OF HIS PREACHING. 

Priscilla near them, and when they get good advice are willing 
to listen to it ! The friendship of the eminent layman, Howell 
Harris, with whom Rowlands became acquainted about this 
time, was no doubt a great additional help to his soul. In one 
way or another, the great apostle of Wales was gradually led 
into the full noontide light of Christ's truth; and about the year 
1742, in the thirtieth year of his age, became established as the 
preacher of a singularly full, free, clear, and well-balanced 
gospel. 

The effect of Rowlands' ministry from this time forward to 
his life's end was something so vast and prodigious, that it 
almost takes away one's breath to hear of it. We see un- 
happily so very little of spiritual influences in the present day, 
the operations of the Holy Ghost appear confined within such 
narrow limits and to reach so few persons, that the harvests 
reaped at Llangeitho a hundred years ago sound almost in- 
credible. But the evidence of the results of his preaching is so 
abundant and incontestable, that there is no room left for 
doubt. One universal testimony is borne to the fact that Row- 
lands was made a blessing to hundreds of souls. People used 
to flock to hear him preach from every part of the Principality, 
and to think nothing of travelling fifty or sixty miles for the 
purpose. On sacrament Sundays it was no uncommon thing 
for him to have 1500, or 2000, or even 2500 communicants! 
The people on these occasions would go together in companies, 
like the Jews going up to the temple feast in Jerusalem, and 
would return home afterwards singing hymns and psalms on 
their journey, caring nothing for fatigue. 

It is useless to attempt accounting for these effects of the 
great Welsh preacher's ministry, as many do, by calling them 
religious excitement. Such people would do well to remember 
that the influence which Rowlands had over his hearers was an 
influence which never waned for at least forty-eight years. It 
had its ebbs and flows, no doubt, and rose on several occasions 



DANGERS IN RELIGIOUS EXCITEMENT. 187. 

to the spring-tide of revivals ; but at no time did his ministry 
appear to be without immense and unparalleled results. Ac- 
cording to Charles of Bala, and many other unexceptionable 
witnesses, it seemed just as attractive and effective when he 
was seventy years old as it was when he was fifty. When we 
recollect, moreover, the singular fact that on Sundays, at least, 
Rowlands was very seldom absent from Llangeitho, and that 
for forty-eight years he was constantly preaching on the same 
spot, and not, like Whitefield and Wesley, incessantly address- 
ing fresh congregations, we must surely allow that few preachers 
have had such extraordinary spiritual success since the days of 
the apostles. 

Of course it would be absurd to say that there was no excite- 
ment, unsound profession, hypocrisy, and false fire among the 
thousands who crowded to hear Rowlands. There was much, 
no doubt, as there always will be, when large masses of people 
are gathered together. Nothing, perhaps, is so infectious as a 
kind of sham, sensational Christianity, and particularly among 
unlearned and ignorant men. The Welsh, too, are notoriously 
an excitable people. No one, however, was more fully alive 
to these dangers than the great preacher himself, and no one 
could warn his hearers more incessantly that the Christianity 
which was not practical was unprofitable and vain. But, after 
all, the effects of Rowlands' ministry were too plain and pal- 
pable to be mistaken. There is clear and overwhelming 
evidence that the lives of many of his hearers were vastly 
improved after hearing him preach, and that sin was checked 
and distinct knowledge of Christianity increased to an immense 
extent throughout the Principality. 

It will surprise no Christian to hear that, from an early 
period, Rowlands found it impossible to confine his labours to 
his own parish. The state of the country was so deplorable as 
to religion and morality, and the applications he received for 
help were so many, that he felt he had no choice in the matter. 



1 88 INVITED TO PREACH AT YSTRADFFIN. 

The circumstances under which he first began preaching out of 
his own neighbourhood are so interesting, as described by 
Owen, that I shall give his words without abbreviation : — 

" There was a farmer's wife in Ystradffln, in the county of 
Carmarthen, who had a sister living near Llangeitho. This 
woman came at times to see her sister, and on one of these 
occasions she heard some strange things about the clergyman 
of the parish — that is, Rowlands. The common saying was, 
that he was not right in his mind. However, she went to hear 
him, and not in vain ; but she said nothing then to her sister 
or to anybody else about the sermon, and she returned home to 
her family. The following Sunday she came again to her 
sister's home at Llangeitho. 'What is the matter?' said her 
sister, in great surprise. ' Are your husband and your children 
well % ' She feared, from seeing her again so soon and so un- 
expectedly, that something unpleasant had happened. ' Oh, 
yes/ was the reply, ' nothing of that kind is amiss.' Again she 
asked her, ' What, then, is the matter 1 ' To this she replied, 
' I don't well know what is the matter. Something that your 
cracked clergyman said last Sunday has brought me here to-day. 
It stuck in my mind all the week, and never left me night nor 
day.' She went again to hear, and continued to come every 
Sunday, though her road was rough and mountainous, and her 
home more than twenty miles from Llangeitho. 

" After continuing to hear Rowlands about half a year, she 
felt a strong desire to ask him to come and preach at Ystradfrm. 
She made up her mind to try; and, after service one Sunday, 
she went to Rowlands, and accosted him in the following man- 
ner : — ' Sir, if what you say to us is true, there are many in my 
neighbourhood in a most dangerous condition, going fast to 
eternal misery. For the sake of their souls, come over, sir, to 
preach to them." The woman's request took Rowlands by 
surprise; but without a moment's hesitation he said, in his usual 
quick way, ' Yes, I will come, if you can get the clergyman's 



COMMENCES FIELD- PRE A CHING. 1 8 9 

permission.' This satisfied the woman, and she returned home 
as much pleased as if she had found some rich treasure. She 
took the first opportunity of asking her clergyman's permission, 
and easily succeeded. Next Sunday she went joyfully to 
Llangeitho, and informed Rowlands of her success. According 
to his promise he went over and preached at Ystradffin, and 
his very first sermon there was wonderfully blessed. Not less 
than thirty persons, it is said, were converted that day ! Many 
of them afterwards came regularly to hear him at Llangeitho." 

From this time forth, Rowlands never hesitated to preach 
outside his own parish, wherever a door of usefulness was 
opened. When he could, he preached in churches. When 
churches were closed to him, he would preach in a room, a 
barn, or the open air. At no period, however, of his ministerial 
life does he appear to have been so much of an itinerant as 
some of his contemporaries. He rightly judged that hearers of 
the gospel required to be built up as well as awakened, and for 
this work he was peculiarly well qualified. Whatever, there- 
fore, he did on week days, the Sunday generally found him at 
Llangeitho. 

The circumstances under which he first began the practice of 
field-preaching were no less remarkable than those under which 
he was called to preach at Ystradfhn. It appears that after 
his own conversion he felt great anxiety about the spiritual con- 
dition of his old companions in sin and folly. Most of them 
were thoughtless headstrong young men, who thoroughly dis- 
liked his searching sermons, and refused at last to come to 
church at all. " Their custom," says Owen, " was to go on 
Sunday to a suitable place on one of the hills above Llangeitho, 
and there amuse themselves with sports and games." Rowlands 
tried all means to stop this sinful profanation of the Lord's day, 
but for some time utterly failed. At last he determined to go 
there himself on a Sunday. As these rebels against God would 
not come to him in church, he resolved to go to them on their 



190 ESTABLISHES SOCIETIES. 

own ground. He went therefore, and suddenly breaking into 
the ring as a cock-fight was going on, addressed them power- 
fully and boldly about the sinfulness of their conduct. The 
effect was so great that not a tongue was raised to answer or 
oppose him, and from that day the Sabbath assembly in that 
place was completely given up. For the rest of his life Row- 
lands never hesitated, when occasion required, to preach in the 
open air. 

The extra-parochial work that Rowlands did by his itinerant 
preaching was carefully followed up and not allowed to fall to 
the ground. No one understood better than he did, that souls 
require almost as much attention after they are awakened as 
they do before, and that in spiritual husbandry there is need of 
watering as well as planting. Aided, therefore, by a few zealous 
fellow-labourers, both lay and clerical, he established a regular 
system of Societies, on John Wesley's plan, over the greater 
part of Wales, through which he managed to keep up a con- 
stant communication with all who valued the gospel that he 
preached, and to keep them well together. These societies 
were all connected with one great Association, which met four 
times a-year, and of which he was generally the moderator. 
The amount of his influence at these Association-meetings may 
be measured by the fact that above one hundred ministers in 
the Principality regarded him as their spiritual father ! From 
the very first this Association seems to have been a most wisely 
organized and useful institution, and to it may be traced the 
existence of the Calvinistic Methodist body in Wales at this 
very day. 

The mighty instrument whom God employed in doing all the 
good works I have been describing, was not permitted to do 
them without many trials. For wise and good ends, no doubt 
— to keep him humble in the midst of his immense success 
and to prevent his being exalted overmuch — he was called upon 
to drink many bitter cups. Like his divine Master, he was " a 



RO WLANDS ONL Y A CUR A TE. 1 9 1 

man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." The greatest of 
these trials, no doubt, was his ejection from the Church of 
England in 1763, after serving her faithfully for next to nothing 
as an ordained clergyman for thirty years. The manner in 
which this disgraceful transaction was accomplished was so re- 
markable, that it deserves to be fully described. 

Rowlands, it must be remembered, was never an incumbent. 
From the time of his ordination in 1733, he was simply curate 
of Llangeitho, under his elder brother John, until the time of 
his death in 1760. What kind of a clergyman his elder brother 
was is not very clear. He was drowned at Aberystwith, and 
we only know that for twenty-seven years he seems to have 
left everything at Llangeitho in Daniel's hands, and to have let 
him do just what he liked. Upon the death of John Rowlands, 
the Bishop of St. David's, who was patron of Llangeitho, was 
asked to give the living to his brother Daniel, upon the very 
reasonable ground that he had been serving the parish as 
curate no less than twenty-seven years ! The bishop unhappily 
refused to comply with this request, alleging as his excuse that 
he had received many complaints about his irregularities. He 
took the very singular step of giving the living to John, the son 
of Daniel Rowlands, a young man twenty-seven years old. 
The result of this very odd proceeding was, that Daniel Row- 
lands became curate to his own son, as he had been curate to 
his own brother, and continued his labours at Llangeitho for 
three years more uninterruptedly.* 

The reasons why the Bishop of St. David's refused to give 
Rowlands the living of Llangeitho may be easily divined. So 
long as he was only a curate, he knew that he could easily 
silence him. Once instituted and inducted as incumbent, he 
would have occupied a position from which he could not have 

* For a clue to all this intricacy, I am entirely indebted to the Rev. W. Rowlands of 
Fishguard. Unless the facts I have detailed are carefully remembered, it is impossible to 
understand how Daniel Rowlands was so easily turned out of his position. The truth is, 
that he was only a curate 



192 HIS LICENSE WITHDRAWN. 

been removed without much difficulty. Influenced, probably, 
by some such considerations, the bishop permitted Rowlands 
to continue preaching at Llangeitho as curate to his son, warn- 
ing him at the same time that the Welsh clergy were constantly 
complaining of his irregularities, and that he could not long 
look over them. These "irregularities," be it remembered, 
were neither drunkenness, breach of the seventh commandment, 
hunting, shooting, nor gambling ! The whole substance of his 
offence was preaching out of his own parish wherever he could 
get hearers ! To the bishop's threats Rowlands replied, " that 
he had nothing in view but the glory of God in the salvation 
of sinners, and that as his labours had been so much blessed 
he could not desist." 

At length, in the year 1763, the fatal step was taken. The 
bishop sent Rowlands a mandate, revoking his license, and was 
actually foolish enough to have it served on a Sunday ! The 
niece of an eye-witness describes what happened in the follow- 
ing words : " My uncle was at Llangeitho church that very 
morning. A stranger came forward and served Mr. Rowlands 
with a notice from the bishop, at the very time when he was 
stepping into the pulpit. Mr. Rowlands read it, and told the 
people that the letter which he had just received was from the 
bishop, revoking his license. Mr. Rowlands then said, 'We 
must obey the higher powers. Let me beg you will go out 
quietly, and then we shall conclude the service of the morning 
by the church gate.' And so they walked out, weeping and 
crying. My uncle thought there was not a dry eye in the church 
at the moment. Mr. Rowlands accordingly preached outside 
the church with extraordinary effect." 

A more unhappy, ill-timed, blundering exercise of episcopal 
power than this, it is literally impossible to conceive ! Here 
was a man of singular gifts and graces, who had no objection 
to anything in the Articles or Prayer-book, cast out of the 
Church of England for no other fault than excess of zeal. 



PREACHES IN A CHAPEL. 193 

And this ejection took place at a time when scores of. Welsh 
clergymen were shamefully neglecting their duties, and too often 
were drunkards, gamblers, and sportsmen, if not worse ! That 
the bishop afterwards bitterly repented of what he did, is very 
poor consolation indeed. It was too late. The deed was 
done. Rowlands was shut out of the Church of England, and 
an immense number of his people all over Wales followed him. 
A breach was made in the walls of the Established Church 
which will probably never be healed. As long as the world 
stands, the Church of England in Wales will never get over the 
injury done to it by the preposterous and stupid revocation of 
Daniel Rowlands' license. 

There is every reason to believe that Rowlands felt his expul- 
sion most keenly. However, it made no difference whatever 
in his line of action. His friends and followers soon built him 
a large and commodious chapel in the parish of Llangeitho, and 
migrated there in a body. He did not even leave Llangeitho 
rectory; for his son, being rector, allowed him to reside there 
as long as he lived. In fact, the Church of England lost every- 
thing by ejecting him, and gained nothing at all. The great 
Welsh preacher was never silenced practically for a single day, 
and the Church of England only reaped a harvest of odium 
and dislike in Wales, which is bearing fruit to this very hour. 

From the time of his ejection to his death, the course of 
Rowlands' life seems to have been comparatively undisturbed. 
No longer persecuted and snubbed by ecclesiastical superiors, 
he held on his way for twenty-seven years in great quietness, 
undiminished popularity, and immense usefulness, and died at 
length in Llangeitho rectory on October the 16th, 1790, at the 
ripe old age of seventy-seven. 

" He was unwell during the last year of his life," says Mor- 
gan, " but able to go on with his ministry at Llangeitho, though 
he scarcely went anywhere else. It was his particular wish that 
he might go direct from his work to his everlasting rest, and 

<W5> 13 



1 94 HIS DEA TH AND BURIAL. 

not be kept long on a death-bed. His heavenly Father was 
pleased to grant his desire, and when his departure was draw- 
ing nigh, he had some pleasing idea of his approaching 
end." 

One of his children has. supplied the following interesting 
account of his last days : — " My father made the following ob- 
servations in his sermons two Sundays before his departure. 
He said, ' I am almost leaving, and am on the point of being 
taken from you. I am not tired of work, but in it. I have 
some presentiment that my heavenly Father will soon release 
me from my labours, and bring me to my everlasting rest. 
But I hope that he will continue his gracious presence with 
you after I am gone.' He told us, conversing on his departure 
after worship the last Sunday, that he should like to die in a 
quiet, serene manner, and hoped that he should not be disturbed 
by our sighs and crying. He added, ' I have no more to state, 
by way of acceptance with God, than I have always stated : I 
die as a poor sinner, depending fully and entirely on the merits 
of a crucified Saviour for my acceptance with God.' In his 
last hours he often used the expression, in Latin, which Wesley 
used on his death-bed, ' God is with us ;' and finally departed 
in great peace." 

Rowlands was buried at Llangeitho, at the east end of the 
church. His enemies could shut him out of the pulpit, but 
not out of the churchyard. An old inhabitant of the parish, 
now eighty-five years of age, says : " I well remember his 
tomb, and many times have I read the inscription, his name, 
and age, with that of his wife's, Eleanor, who died a year 
and two months after her husband. The stone was laid on 
a three feet wall, but it is now worn out by the hand of time." 

Rowlands was once married. It is believed that his wife was 
the daughter of Mr. Davies of Glynwchaf, near Llangeitho. He 
had seven children who survived him, and two who died in 
infancy. What became of all his family, and whether there are 



^ TOR Y OF BIS FOR TRAIT. 1 9 5 

any lineal descendants of his, I have been unable to ascertain 
with accuracy. 

The engraving of him which faces the title-page of the lives 
drawn up by Morgan and Owen, gives one the idea of Row- 
lands being a grave and solemn-looking man. It is probably 
taken from the picture of him which Lady Huntingdon sent an 
artist to take at the very end of his life. The worthy old saint 
did not at all like having his portrait taken. " Why do you 
object, sir?" said the artist at last. "Why?" replied the old 
man, with great emphasis ; " I am only a bit of clay like thy- 
self." And then he exclaimed, " Alas ! alas ! alas ! taking the 
picture of a poor old sinner ! alas! alas !" — " His countenance," 
says Morgan, " altered and fell at once, and this is the reason 
why the picture appears so heavy and cast down." 

I have other things yet to tell about Rowlands. His preach- 
ing and the many characteristic anecdotes about him deserve 
special notice. But I must reserve these points for another 
chapter. 



CHAPTER II. 

Analysis of his Preaching — Much of Christ — Richness of Thought — Felicity of Language 
— Large Measure of Practical and Experimental Teaching — Manner, Delivery, and 
Voice — Christmas Evans' Description of his Preaching — Testimony of Mr. Jones of 
Creaton — Specimens of Rowlands' Sermons — Inner Life and Private Character- 
Humility, Prayerfulness, Diligence, Self-Denial, Courage, Fervour — Rowland Hill's 
Anecdote. 

In taking a general survey of the ministry of Daniel Rowlands 
1 of Llangeitho, the principal thing that strikes one is the extra- 
ordinary power of his preaching. There was evidently some- 
thing very uncommon about his sermons. On this point we 
'have the clear and distinct testimony of a great cloud of wit- 
nesses. In a day when God raised up several preachers of very 
*reat power, Rowlands was considered by competent judges to 
oe equalled by only one man, and to be excelled by none. 



196 ROWLANDS' SERMONS. 

Whitefield was thought to equal him ; but even Whitefield was 
not thought to surpass him. This is undoubtedly high praise. 
Some account of the good man's sermons will probably prove 
interesting to most of my readers. What were their peculiar 
characteristics % What were they like 1 

I must begin by frankly confessing that the subject is sur- 
rounded by difficulties. The materials out of which we have 
to form our judgment are exceedingly small. Eight sermons, 
translated out of Welsh into English in the year 1774, are the 
only literary record which exists of the great Welsh apostle's 
fifty years' ministry. Besides these sermons, and a few frag- 
ments of occasional addresses, we have hardly any means of 
testing the singularly high estimate which his contemporaries 
formed of his preaching powers. When I add to this, that the 
eight sermons extant appear to be poorly translated, the reader 
will have some idea of the difficulties I have to contend with. 

Let me remark, however, once for all, that when the genera- 
tion which heard a great preacher has passed away, it is often 
hard to find out the secret of his popularity. No well-read 
person can be ignorant that Luther and Knox in the sixteenth 
century, Stephen Marshall in the Commonwealth times, and 
George Whitefield in the eighteenth century, were the most 
popular and famous preachers of their respective eras. Yet no 
one, perhaps, can read their sermons, as we now possess them, 
without a secret feeling that they do not answer to their reputa- 
tion. In short, it is useless to deny that there is some hidden 
secret about pulpit power which baffles all attempts at defini- 
tion. The man who attempts to depreciate the preaching of 
Rowlands on the ground that the only remains of him now 
extant seem poor, will find that he occupies an untenable posi- 
tion. He might as well attempt to depreciate the great cham- 
pions of the German and Scottish Reformations. 

After all, we must remember that no man has a right to pass 
unfavourable criticisms on the remains of great popular preachers, 



A NAL YSIS OF HIS PRE A CHING. 1 9 7 

j unless he has first thoroughly considered what kind of thing a 
popular sermon must of necessity be. The vast majority of 
, sermon-hearers do not want fine words, close reasoning, deep 
\, philosophy, metaphysical abstractions, nice distinctions, elabo- 
| rate composition, profound learning. They delight in plain 
I language, simple ideas, forcible illustrations, direct appeals to 
I heart and conscience, short sentences, fervent, loving earnest- 
! ness of manner. He who possesses such qualifications will 
I .seldom preach to empty benches. He who possesses them in 
a high degree will always be a popular preacher. Tried by 
this standard, the popularity of Luther and Knox is easily 
explained. Rowlands appears to have been a man of this 
stamp. An intelligent judge of popular preaching can hardly 
fail to see in his remains, through all the many disadvantages 
under which we read them, some of the secrets of his marvel- 
lous success. 

Having cleared my way by these preliminary remarks, I will 
, proceed at once to show my readers some of the leading charac- 
I teristics of the great Welsh evangelist's preaching. I give them 
,as the result of a close analysis of his literary remains. Weak 
jand poor as they undoubtedly look in the garb of a translation, 
M venture to think that the following points stand out clearly in 
Rowlands' sermons, and give us a tolerable idea of what his 
preaching generally was. 

The first thing that I notice in the remains of Rowlands is 
n the constant fir ese?ice of Christ m all his addresses. The Lord 
, Jesus stands out prominently in almost every page. That his 
doctrine was always eminently "evangelical" is a point on 
which I need not waste words. The men about whom I am 
writing were all men of that stamp. But of all the spiritual cham- 
pions of last century, none appear to me to have brought Christ 
forward more prominently than Rowlands. The blood, the 
, ; sacrifice, the righteousness, the kindness, the patience, the 
fi u saving grace, the example, the greatness of the Lord Jesus, are 



198 RICHNESS OF THOUGHT. 

subjects which appear to run through every sermon, and to crop 
out at every turn. It seems as if the preacher could never say 
enough about his Master, and was never weary of commending 
him to his hearers. His divinity and his humanity, his office 
and his character, his death and his life, are pressed on our 
attention in every possible connection. Yet it all seems to 
come in naturally, and without effort, as if it were the regular 
outflowing of the preacher's mind, and the language of a heart 
speaking from its abundance. Here, I suspect, was precisely 
one of the great secrets of Rowlands' power. A ministry full of 
the Lord Jesus is exactly the sort of ministry that I should 
expect God to bless. Christ-honouring sermons are just the 
sermons that the Holy Spirit seals with success. 

The second thing that I notice in the remains of Rowlands is 
a singular richness of thought and matter. Tradition records 
that he was a diligent student all his life, and spent a great deal 
of time in the preparation of his sermons. I can quite believe 
this. Even in the miserable relics which we possess, I fancy I 
detect strong internal evidence that he was deeply read in 
Puritan divinity. I suspect that he was very familiar with the 
writings of such men as Gurnall, Watson, Brooks, Clarkson, 
and their contemporaries, and was constantly storing his mind 
with fresh thoughts from their pages. Those who imagine that 
the great Welsh preacher was nothing but an empty declaimer 
of trite commonplaces, bald platitudes, and hackneyed phrases, 
with a lively manner and a loud voice, are utterly and entirely 
mistaken. They will find, even in the tattered rags of his trans- 
lated sermons, abundant proof that Rowlands was a man who 
read much and thought much, and gave his hearers plenty to 
carry away. Even in the thin little volume of eight sermons 
which I have, I find frequent quotations from Chrysostom, 
Augustine, Ambrose, Bernard, and Theophylact. I find fre- 
quent reference to things recorded by Greek and Latin classical 
writers. I mark such names as Homer, Socrates, Plato, ^Eschines, 



FELICITY OF LA NG UA GE. 199 

Aristotle, Pythagoras, Carneades. Alexander the Great, Julius 
Caesar, Nero, the Augean stable, Thersites, and Xantippe, make 
their appearance here and there. That Rowlands was indebted 
to his friends the Puritans for most of these materials, I make 
no question at all. But wherever he may have got his learning, 
there is no doubt that he possessed it, and knew how to make 
use of it in his sermons. In this respect I think he excelled all 
his contemporaries. Not one of them shows so much reading 
in his sermons as the curate of Llangeitho. Here again, I 
venture to suggest, was one great secret of Rowlands' success. 
The man who takes much pains with his sermons, and never 
brings out what has " cost him nothing," is just the man I 
expect God will bless. We want well-beaten oil for the service 
of the sanctuary. 

The third thing that I notice in the remains of Rowlands is 
the curious felicity of the language in which he expressed his 
ideas. Of course this is a point on which I must speak diffi- 
dently, knowing literally nothing of the Welsh tongue, and entirely 
dependent on translation. But it is impossible to mistake certain 
peculiarities in style which stand forth prominently in every- 
thing which comes from the great Welsh apostle's mind. He 
abounds in short, terse, pithy, epigrammatic, proverbial sentences, 
of that kind which arrests the attention and sticks in the 
memory of hearers. He has a singularly happy mode of quot- 
ing Scriptures in confirming and enforcing the statement he 
makes. Above all, he is rich in images and illustrations, drawn 
from everything almost in the world, but always put in such a 
way that the simplest mind can understand them. Much of the 
peculiar interest of his preaching, I suspect, may be traced to 
this talent of putting things in the most vivid and pictorial way. 
He made his hearers feel that they actually saw the things of 
which he was speaking. No intelligent reader of the Bible, I 
suppose, needs to be reminded that in all this Rowlands walked 
in the footsteps of his divine Master. The sermons of Him 



200 HIS PRACTICAL TEACHING. 

who " spake as never man spake," were not elaborate rhetorical 
arguments. Parables founded on subjects familiar to the 
humblest intellect, terse, broad, sententious statements, were the 
staple of our Lord Jesus Christ's preaching. Much of the 
marvellous success of Rowlands, perhaps, may be traced up to 
his wise imitation of the best of patterns, the great Head of the 
Church. 

The fourth and last thing which I notice in the remains of 
Rowlands, is the large measure of practical and experimental 
teaching which enters into all his sermons. Anxious as he un- 
doubtedly was to convert sinners and arouse the careless, he 
never seems to forget the importance of guiding the Church of 
God and building up believers. Warnings, counsels, encourage- 
ments, consolations suited to professing Christians, are con- 
tinually appearing in all his discourses. The peculiar character 
of his ministerial position may partly account for this. He was 
always preaching in the same place, and to many of the same 
hearers, on Sundays. He was not nearly so much an itinerant 
as many of his contemporaries. He could not, like Whitefield, 
and Wesley, and Berridge, preach the same sermon over and 
over again, and yet feel that probably none of his hearers had 
heard it before. Set for the defence of the gospel at Llangeitho 
every Sunday, and seeing every week the same faces looking up 
to him, he probably found it absolutely necessary to " bring 
forth new things as well as old/' and to be often exhorting 
many of his hearers not to stand still in first principles, but to 
" go on unto perfection." But be the cause what it may, there 
is abundant evidence in the sermons of Rowlands that he never 
forgot the believers among his people, and generally contrived 
to say a good many things for their special benefit. Here 
again, I venture to think, we have one more clue to his extra- 
ordinary usefulness. He " rightly divided the word of truth," 
and gave to every man his portion. Most preachers of the 
gospel, I suspect, fail greatly in this matter. They either neglect 



HIS MANNER AND DELIVERY. 201 

the unconverted or the true Christians in their congregations. 
They either spend their strength in perpetually teaching elemen- 
tary truths, or else they dwell exclusively on the privileges and 
duties of God's children. From this one-sided style of preach- 
ing Rowlands seems to have been singularly free. Even in the 
midst of the plainest addresses to the ungodly, he never loses 
the opportunity of making a general appeal to the godly. In a 
word, his ministry of God's truth was thoroughly well-balanced 
and well-proportioned ; and this is just the ministry which we 
may expect the Holy Ghost will bless. 

The manner and delivery of this great man, when he was in 
the act of preaching, require some special notice. Every sen- 
sible Christian knows well that voice and delivery have a great 
deal to say to the effectiveness of a speaker, and above all of 
one who speaks in the pulpit. A sermon faultless both in doc- 
trine and composition will often sound dull and tiresome, when 
tamely read by a clergyman with a heavy monotonous manner. 
A sermon of little intrinsic merit, and containing perhaps not 
half-a-dozen ideas, will often pass muster as brilliant and elo- 
quent, when delivered by a lively speaker with a good voice. 
For want of good delivery some men make gold look like copper, 
while others, by the sheer force of a good delivery, make a few 
halfpence pass for gold. Truths divine seem really " mended" 
by the tongue of some, while they are marred and damaged by 
others. There is deep wisdom and knowledge of human nature 
in the answer given by an ancient to one who asked what were 
the first qualifications of an orator : " The first qualification," 
he said, " is action ; and the second is action ; and the third is 
action. " The meaning of course was, that it was almost im- 
possible to overrate the importance of manner and delivery. 

The voice of Rowlands, according to tradition, was remark- 
ably powerful. We may easily believe this, when we recollect 
that he used frequently to preach to thousands in the open air, 
and to make himself heard by all without difficulty. But we 



202 HIS POWERFUL VOICE. 

must not suppose that power was the only attribute of his vocal 
organ, and that he was nothing better than one who screamed, 
shouted, and bawled louder than other ministers. There is 
universal testimony from all good judges who heard him, that 
his voice was singularly moving, affecting, and tender, and pos- 
sessed a strange power of drawing forth the sympathies of his 
hearers. In this respect he seems to have resembled Baxter 
and Whitefield. Like Whitefield, too, his feelings never inter- 
fered with the exercise of his voice; and even when his affections 
moved him to tears in preaching, he was able to continue speak- 
ing with uninterrupted clearness. It is a striking feature of the 
moving character of his voice, that a remarkable revival of religion 
began at Llangeitho while Rowlands was reading the Litany of 
the Church of England. The singularly touching and melting 
manner in which he repeated the words, " By thine agony and 
bloody sweat, good Lord, deliver us," so much affected the whole 
congregation, that almost all began to weep loudly, and an 
awakening of spiritual life commenced which extended through- 
out the neighbourhood. 

Of the manner, demeanour, and action of Rowlands in the 
delivery of his sermons, mention is made by all who write 'of 
him. All describe them as being something so striking and 
remarkable, that no one could have an idea of them but an 
eye-witness. He seems to have combined in a most extraor- 
dinary degree solemnity and liveliness, dignity and familiarity, 
depth and fervour. His singular plainness and directness made 
even the poorest feel at home when he preached; and yet he 
never degenerated into levity or buffoonery. His images and 
similes brought things home to his hearers with such graphic 
power that they could not help sometimes smiling. But he 
never made his Master's business ridiculous by pulpit joking. If 
he did say things that made people smile occasionally, he far 
more often said things that made them weep. 

The following sketch by the famous Welsh preacher, Christ- 



TESTIMONY OF CHRISTMAS EVANS. 203. 

mas Evans, will probably give as good an idea as we can now 
obtain of Rowlands in the pulpit. It deserves the more atten- 
tion, because it is the sketch of a Welshman, an eye-witness, a 
keen observer, a genuine admirer of his hero, and one who was 
himself in after-days a very extraordinary man : — 

" Rowlands' mode of preaching was peculiar to himself — 
inimitable. Methinks I see him now entering in his black 
gown through a little door from the outside to the pulpit, and 
making his appearance suddenly before the immense congrega- 
tion. His countenance was in every sense adorned with ma- 
jesty, and it bespoke the man of strong sense, eloquence, and 
authority. His forehead was high and prominent ; his eye was 
quick, sharp, and penetrating ; he had an aquiline or Roman 
nose, proportionable comely lips, projecting chin, and a sono- 
rous, commanding, and well-toned voice. 

"When he made his appearance in the pulpit, he frequently 
gave out, with a clear and audible voice, Psalm xxvii. 4 to be 
sung. Only one verse was sung before sermon, in those days 
notable for divine influences; but the whole congregation joined 
in singing it with great fervour. Then Rowlands would stand 
up, and read his text distinctly in the hearing of all. The whole 
congregation were all ears and most attentive, as if they were 
on the point of hearing some evangelic and heavenly oracle, 
and the eyes of all the people were at the same time most 
intensely fixed upon him. He had at the beginning of his dis- 
course some stirring, striking idea, like a small box of ointment 
which he opened before the great one of his sermon, and it 
filled all the house with its heavenly perfume, as the odour of 
Mary's alabaster box of ointment at Bethany ; and the congre- 
gation being delightfully enlivened with the sweet odour, were 
prepared to look for more of it from one box after the other 
throughout the sermon. 

" I will borrow another similitude in order to give some idea 
of his most energetic eloquence. It shall be taken from the 



204 TESTIMONY OF CHRISTMAS EVANS. 

trade of a blacksmith. The smith first puts the iron into the 
fire, and then blows the bellows softly, making some inquiries 
respecting the work to be done, while his eye all the time is 
fixed steadily on the process of heating the iron in the fire. But 
as soon as he perceives it to be in a proper and pliable state, 
he carries it to the anvil, and brings the weighty hammer and 
sledge down on the metal, and in the midst of stunning noise 
and fiery sparks emitted from the glaring metal, he fashions and 
moulds it at his will. 

" Thus Rowlands, having glanced at his notes as a matter of 
form, would go on with his discourse in a calm and deliberate 
manner, speaking with a free and audible voice ; but he would 
gradually become warmed with his subject, and at length his 
voice became so elevated and authoritative, that it resounded 
through the whole chapel. The effect on the people was won- 
derful ; you could see nothing but smiles and tears running 
down the face of all. The first flame of heavenly devotion 
under the first division having subsided, he would again look 
on his scrap of notes, and begin the second time to melt and 
make the minds of the people supple, until he formed them 
again into the same heavenly temper. And thus he would do 
six or seven times in the same sermon. 

"Rowlands' voice, countenance, and appearance used to 
change exceedingly in the pulpit, and he seemed to be greatly 
excited ; but there w r as nothing low or disagreeable in him — all 
was becoming, dignified, and excellent. There was such a 
vehement, invincible flame in his ministry, as effectually drove 
away the careless, worldly, dead spirit; and the people so 
awakened drew nigh, as it were, to the bright cloud — to Christ, 
to Moses, and Elias — eternity and its amazing realities rushing 
into their minds. 

" There was very little, if any, inference or application at the 
end of Rowlands' sermon, for he had been applying and en- 
forcing the glorious truths of the gospel throughout the whole 



OTHER WITNESSES. 205 

of his discourse. He would conclude with a very few striking 
and forcible remarks, which were most overwhelming and in- 
vincible ; and then he would make a very sweet, short prayer, 
and utter the benediction. Then he would make haste out of 
the pulpit through the little door. His exit was as sudden as 
his entrance. Rowlands was a star of the greatest magnitude 
that appeared the last century in the Principality \ and perhaps 
there has not been his like in Wales since the days of the 
apostles." 

It seems almost needless to add other testimony to this 
graphic sketch, though it might easily be added. The late Mr. 
Jones of Creaton, who was no mean judge, and heard the 
greatest preachers in England and Wales, used to declare that 
" he never heard but one Rowlands." The very first time he 
heard him, he was so struck with his manner of delivery, as well 
as his sermon, that it led him to a serious train of thought, 
which ultimately ended in his conversion. — Charles of Bala, 
himself a very eminent minister, said that there was a pecu- 
liar "dignity and grandeur" in Rowlands' ministry, "as well 
as profound thoughts, strength and melodiousness of voice, 
and clearness and animation in exhibiting the deep things of 
God." — A Birmingham minister, who came accidentally to a 
place in Wales where Rowlands was preaching to an immense 
congregation in the open air, says : " I never witnessed such a 
scene before. The striking appearance of the preacher, and his 
zeal, animation, and fervour were beyond description. Row- 
lands' countenance was most expressive ; it glowed almost like 
an angel's." 

After saying so much about the gifts and power of this great 
preacher, it is perhaps hardly fair to offer any specimens of his 
sermons. To say nothing of the fact that we only possess them 
in the form of translations, it must never be forgotten that true 
pulpit eloquence can rarely be expressed on paper. Wise men 
know well that sermons which are excellent to listen to, are just 



206 SPECIMENS OF HIS SERMONS. 

the sermons which do not " read " well. However, as I have 
hitherto generally given my readers some illustrations of the 
style of my last century heroes, they will perhaps be disap- 
pointed if I do not give them a few passages from Rowlands'. 

My first specimen shall be taken from his sermon on the 
words, " All things work together for good to them that love 
God" (Rom. viii. 28). 

" Observe what he says. Make thou no exception, when he 
makes none. All ! remember he excepts nothing. Be thou 
confirmed in thy faith ; give glory to God, and resolve, with Job, 
' Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.' The Almighty 
may seem for a season to be your enemy, in order that he may 
become your eternal friend. Oh ! believers, after all your tribu- 
lation and anguish, you must conclude with David, 'It is good 
for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn thy 
statutes.' Under all your disquietudes you must exclaim, ' O 
the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of 
God ! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past 
finding out!' His glory is seen when he works by means; it 
is more seen when he works without means ; it is seen, above 
all, when he works contrary to means. It was a great work to 
open the eyes of the blind ; it was a greater still to do it by 
applying clay and spittle, things more likely, some think, to 
take away sight than to restore. He sent a horror of great 
darkness on Abraham, when he was preparing to give him the 
best light. He touched the hollow of Jacob's thigh, and lamed 
him, when he was going to bless him. He smote Paul with 
blindness, when he was intending to open the eyes of his mind. 
He refused the request of the woman of Canaan for a while, 
but afterwards she obtained her desire. See, therefore, that all 
the paths of the Lord are mercy, and that all things work to- 
gether for good to them that love him. 

" Even affliction is very useful and profitable to the godly. 
The prodigal son had no thought of returning to his father's 



ON ROMANS VIII. 28. 207 

house till he had been humbled by adversity. Hagar was 
haughty under Abraham's roof, and despised her mistress ; but 
in the wilderness she was meek and lowly. Jonah sleeps on 
board ship, but in the whale's belly he watches and prays. 
Manasseh lived as a libertine at Jerusalem, and committed the 
most enormous crimes ; but when he was bound in chains in 
the prison at Babylon his heart was turned to seek the Lord 
his God. Bodily pain and disease have been instrumental in 
rousing many to seek Christ, when those who were in high 
health have given themselves no concern about him. The 
ground which is not rent and torn with the plough bears nothing 
but thistles and thorns. The vines will run wild, in process of 
time, if they be not pruned and trimmed. So would our wild 
hearts be overrun with filthy, poisonous weeds, if the true Vine- 
dresser did not often check their growth by crosses and sanc- 
tified troubles. ' It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in 
his youth.' Our Saviour says, ' Every branch that beareth fruit, 
my Father purgeth, that it may bring forth more fruit.' There 
can be no gold or silver finely wrought without being first puri- 
fied with fire, and no elegant houses built with stones till the 
hammers have squared and smoothed them. So we can neither 
become vessels of honour in the house of our Father till we are 
melted in the furnace of affliction, nor lively stones in the walls 
of new Jerusalem till the hand of the Lord has beaten oft" our 
proud excrescences and tumours with his own hammers. 

" He does not say that all things will, but do, work together 
for good. The work is on the wheel, and every movement of 
the wheel is for your benefit. Not only the angels who encamp 
around you, or the saints who continually pray for you, but 
even your enemies, the old dragon and his angels, are engaged 
in this matter. It is true, this is not their design. No ! 
They think they are carrying on their own work of destroying 
you, as it is said of the Assyrian whom the Lord sent to 
punish a hypocritical nation, ' Howbeit, he meaneth not so ;' 



208 SPECIMENS OF HIS SERMONS. 

yet it was God's work that he was carrying on, though he did 
not intend to do so. All the events that take place in the 
world carry on the same work — the glory of the Father and the 
salvation of his children. Every illness and infirmity that may 
seize you, every loss you may meet with, every reproach you 
may endure, every shame that may colour your faces, every 
sorrow in your hearts, every agony and pain in your flesh, every 
aching in your bones, are for your good. Every change in your 
condition — your fine weather and your rough weather, your 
sunny weather and your cloudy weather, your ebbing and your 
flowing, your liberty and your imprisonment, all turn out for 
good. Oh, Christians, see what a harvest of blessings ripens 
from this text ! The Lord is at work ; all creation is at work ; 
men and angels, friends and foes, all are busy, working together 
for good. Oh, dear Lord Jesus, what hast thou seen in us that 
thou shouldst order things so wondrously for us, and make all 
things — all things to work together for our good?" 

My second specimen shall be taken from his sermon on 
Rev. iii. 20 : — 

" Oh, how barren and unfruitful is the soul of man, until the 
word descends like rain upon it, and it is watered with the dew 
of heaven ! But when a few drops have entered and made it 
supple, what a rich harvest of graces do they produce ! Is 
the heart so full of malice that the most suppliant knee can 
expect no pardon % Is it as hard to be pacified and calmed as 
the roaring sea when agitated by a furious tempest % Is it a 
covetous heart ; so covetous that no scene of distress can soften 
it into sympathy, and no object of wretchedness extort a penny 
from its gripe 1 ? Is it a wanton and adulterous heart, which 
may as soon be satisfied as the sea can be filled with gold % Be 
it so. But when the word shall ' drop on it as the rain, and 
distil as the dew,' behold, in an instant the flint is turned into 
flesh, the tumultuous sea is hushed into a calm, and the moun- 
tains of Gilboa are clothed with herbs and flowers, where before 



ON HEBREWS I. 9. 209 

not a green blade was to be seen ! See the mighty change ! 
It "converts Zaccheus, the hard-hearted publican and rapacious 
tax-gatherer, into a restorer of what he had unjustly gotten, and 
a merciful reliever of the needy. It tames the furious perse- 
cuting Saul, and makes him gentle as a lamb. It clothes Ahab 
with sackcloth and ashes. It reduces Felix to such anguish of 
mind that he trembles like an aspen leaf. It disposes Peter to 
leave his nets, and makes him to catch thousands of souls at 
one draught in the net of the gospel. Behold, the world is con- 
verted to the faith, not by the magicians of Egypt, but by the 
outcasts of Judaea !" 

The last specimen that I will give is from his sermon on 
Heb. i. 9 :— 

" Christ took our nature upon him that he might sympathize 
with us. Almost every creature is tender toward its own kind, 
however ferocious to others. The bear will not be deprived of 
her whelps without resistance: she will tear the spoiler to 
pieces if she can. But how great must be the jealousy of the 
Lord Jesus for his people ! He will not lose any of them. He 
has taken them as members of himself, and as such watches 
over them with fondest care. How much will a man do for 
one of his members before he suffers it to be cut off ? Think 
not, O man, that thou wouldst do more for thy members than 
the Son of God. To think so would be blasphemy, for the 
pre-eminence in all things belongs to him. Yea, he is acquainted 
with all thy temptations, because he was in all things tempted 
as thou art. Art thou tempted to deny God? So was he. 
Art thou tempted to kill thyself? So was he. Art thou 
tempted by the vanities of the world ? So was he. Art thou 
tempted to idolatry ? So was he ; yea, even to worship the 
devil. He was tempted from the manger to the cross. He 
was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. The Head in 
heaven is sympathizing with the feet that are pinched and pressed 
on earth, and says, 'Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?'" 

uys) 14 



2 1 o HIS INNER LIFE 

I should find no difficulty in adding to these extracts, if 
the space at my command did not forbid me. Feeble and 
unsatisfactory, as they undoubtedly are, in the form of a trans- 
lation, they will perhaps give my readers some idea of what 
Rowlands was in the pulpit, so far as concerns the working of 
his mind. Of his manner and delivery, of course, they cannot 
give the least idea. It would be easy to fill pages with short, 
epigrammatic, proverbial sayings culled from his sermons, 
of which there is a rich abundance in many passages. But 
enough, perhaps, has been brought forward to give a general 
impression of the preaching that did such wonders at Llan- 
geitho. Those who want to know more of it should try to get 
hold of the little volume of translated sermons from which my 
extracts have been made. Faintly and inadequately as it repre- 
sents the great Welsh preacher, it is still a' volume worth hav- 
ing, and one that ought to be better known than it is. Scores 
of books are reprinted in the present day which are not half so 
valuable as Rowlands' eight sermons. 

The inner life and private character of the great Welsh 
preacher would form a deeply interesting subject, no doubt, if 
we knew more about them. But the utter absence of all 
materials except a few scattered anecdotes leaves us very much 
in the dark. Unless the memoirs of great men are written 
by relatives, neighbours, or contemporaries, it stands to reason 
that we shall know little of anything but their public conduct 
and doings. This applies eminently to Daniel Rowlands. He 
had no Boswell near him to chronicle the details of his long 
and laborious life, and to present him to us as he appeared at 
home. The consequence is, that a vast quantity of interesting 
matter, which the Church of Christ would like to know, lies 
buried with him in his grave. 

One thing, at any rate, is very certain. His private life was 
as holy, blameless, and consistent, as the life of a Christian 
can be. Some fifteen years ago, the Quarterly Review contained 



AND PR1VA TE CHARA CTER. 2 1 1 

an article insinuating that he was addicted to drunkenness, 
which called forth an indignant and complete refutation from 
many competent witnesses in South Wales, and specially from 
the neighbourhood of Llangeitho. That such charges should 
be made against good men need never surprise us. Slander 
and lying are the devil's favourite weapons, when he wants to 
injure the mightiest assailants of his kingdom. Satan is pre- 
eminently " a liar." Bunyan, Whitefield, and Wesley had to 
drink of the same bitter cup as Rowlands. But that the charge 
against Rowlands was a mere groundless, malicious falsehood, 
was abundantly proved by Mr. Griffith, the vicar of Aberdare, in 
a reply to the article of the Quarterly Review, printed at Car- 
diff. We need not be reminded, if we read our Bibles, who it 
was of whom the wicked Jews said, " Behold a man gluttonous, 
and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners" (Matt. 
xi. 19). If the children of this world cannot prevent the gos- 
pel being preached, they try to blacken the character of the 
preacher. What saith the Scripture 1 " The disciple is not 
above his master, nor the servant above his lord. It is enough 
for the disciple that he be as his master, and the servant as his 
lord. If they have called the Master of the house Beelzebub, 
how much more shall they call them of his household'?" 
(Matt. x. 24, 25). 

The only light that we can throw on the character and private 
habits of Rowlands is derived from the few anecdotes which 
still survive about him. I shall, therefore, conclude my account 
of him by presenting them to my readers without note or com- 
ment. 

One leading feature in Rowlands' character was his humility. 
Like every eminent servant of God of whom much is known, 
he had a deep and abiding sense of his own sinfulness, weak- 
ness, and corruption, and his constant need of God's grace. 
On seeing a vast concourse of people coming to hear him, he 
would frequently exclaim : " Oh, may the Lord have mercy on 



2 T 2 HIS PR A YE R FULNESS. 

me, and help me, a poor worm, sinful dust and ashes !" — When 
a backslider was pointed out to him, who had once been one 
of his followers, he said : " It is to be feared indeed that he is 
one of my disciples ; for had he been one of my Lord's disciples, 
he would not have been in such a state of sin and rebellion." 
He often used to say, during his latter days, that there were four 
lessons which he had laboured to learn throughout the whole 
course of his religious life, and yet that he was but a dull 
scholar even in his old age. These lessons were the following 
— (i.) To repent without despairing; (2.) To believe without 
being presumptuous; (3.) To rejoice without falling into levity; 
(4.) To be angry without sinning. He used also often to say, 
that a self-righteous legal spirit in man was like his shirt, a gar- 
ment which he puts on first, and puts off last. 

A habit oi praying much was another leading characteristic of 
Rowlands. It is said that he used often to go to the top of 
Aeron Hills, and there pour out his heart before God in the 
most tender and earnest manner for the salvation of the 
numerous inhabitants of the country which lay around him. 
" He lived," says Morgan, " in the spirit of prayer, and hence 
his extraordinary success. On one occasion having engaged 
to preach at a certain church which stood on an eminence, he 
had to cross a valley in sight of the people, who were waiting 
for him in the churchyard. They saw him descend into the 
bottom of the valley, but then lost sight of him for some time. 
At last, as he did not come up by the time they expected, and 
service-time had arrived, some of them went down the hill in 
search of him. They discovered him, at length, on his knees 
in a retired spot a little out of the road. He got up when he 
saw them, and went with them, expressing sorrow for the 
delay; but he added, ' I had a delightful opportunity below.' 
The sermon which followed was most extraordinary in power 
and effect." 

Diligence was another distinguishing feature in the character 



HIS SEIF-DENIA I. 213 

of Rowlands. He was continually improving his mind, by read- 
ing, meditation, and study. He used to be up and reading as 
early as four o'clock in the morning \ and he took immense 
pains in the preparation of his sermons. Morgan says, " Every 
part of God's Word, at length, became quite familiar to him. 
He could tell chapter and verse of any text or passage of Scrip- 
ture that was mentioned to him. Indeed the word of God 
dwelt richly in him. He had, moreover, a most retentive 
memory, and when preaching, could repeat the texts referred 
to, off-hand, most easily and appropriately." 

Self-denial was another leading feature of Rowlands' char- 
acter. He was all his life a very poor man ; but he was always 
a contented one, and lived in the simplest way. Twice he re- 
fused the offer of good livings — one in North Wales, and the 
other in South Wales — and preferred to remain a dependent 
curate with his flock at Llangeitho. The offer in one case 
came from the excellent John Thornton. When he heard that 
Rowlands had refused it, and ascertained his reasons, he wrote 
to his son, saying, " I had a high opinion of your father before, 
but now I have a still higher opinion of him, though he declines 
my offer. The reasons he assigns are highly creditable to him. 
It is not a usual thing with me to allow other people to go to 
my pocket; but tell your father that he is fully welcome to do 
so whenever he pleases." The residence of the great Welsh 
evangelist throughout life was nothing but a small cottage pos- 
sessing no great accommodation. His journeys, when he went 
about preaching, were made on horseback, until at last a small 
carriage was left him as a legacy in his old age. He was con- 
tent, when journeying in his Master's service, with very poor 
fare and very indifferent lodgings. He says himself, " We used 
to travel over hills and mountains, on our little nags, without 
anything to eat but the bread and cheese we carried in our 
pockets, and without anything to drink but water from the 
springs. If we had a little buttermilk in some cottages we 



214 HIS COURAGE. 

thought it a great thing. But now men must have tea, and 
some, too, must have brandy!" Never did man seem so 
thoroughly to realize the primitive and apostolic rule of life — 
" Having food and raiment, let us be therewith content. " 

Courage was another prominent feature in Rowlands' char- 
acter. He was often fiercely persecuted when he went about 
preaching, and even his life was sometimes in danger. Once, 
when he was preaching at Aberystwith, a man swore in a 
dreadful manner that he would shoot him immediately. He 
aimed his gun, and pulled the trigger, but it would not go 
off. — On another occasion his enemies actually placed gun- 
powder under the place where he was about to stand when 
preaching, and laid a train to a distant point, so that at a 
given time they might apply a match, and blow up the 
preacher and congregation. However, before the time arrived, a 
good man providentially discovered the whole plot, and brought 
it to nothing. — On other occasions riotous mobs were assembled, 
stones were thrown, drums beaten, and every effort made to 
prevent the sermon being heard. None of these things ever 
seems to have deterred Rowlands for a moment. As long as 
he had strength to work he went on with his Master's busi- 
ness, unmoved by opposition and persecution. Like Colonel 
Gardiner, he " feared God, and beside him he feared nothing." 
He had given himself to the work of preaching the gospel, 
and from this work he allowed neither clergy nor laity, bishops 
nor gentry, rich nor poor, to keep him back. 

Fervent and deep feeling was the last characteristic which I 
mark in Rowlands. He never did anything by halves. 
Whether preaching or praying, whether in church or in the 
open air, he seems to have done all he did with heart and 
soul, and mind and strength. " He possessed as much ani- 
mal spirits," says one witness, "as were sufficient for half-a- 
dozen men." This energy seems to have had an inspiring 
effect about it, and to have swept everything before it like a 



ROWLAND HILVS ANECDOTE. 215 

fire. One who went to hear him every month from Carnar- 
vonshire, gives a striking account of his singular fervour when 
Rowlands was preaching on John iii. 16. He says, " He dwelt 
with such overwhelming, extraordinary thoughts on the love 
of God, and the vastness of his gift to man, that I was 
swallowed up in amazement. I did not know that my feet 
were on the ground ; yea, I had no idea where I was, whether 
on earth or in heaven. But presently he cried out with a 
most powerful voice, ' Praised be God for keeping the Jews 
in ignorance respecting the greatness of the Person in their 
hands ! Had they known who he was, they would never have 
presumed to touch him, much less to drive nails through his 
blessed hands and feet, and to put a crown of thorns on his 
holy head. For had they known, they would not have cruci- 
fied the Lord of glory.' " 

I will wind up this account of Rowlands by mentioning a 
little incident which the famous Rowland Hill often spoke 
of in his latter days. He was attending a meeting of Metho- 
dist ministers in Wales in one of his visits, when a man, 
nearly a hundred years old, got up from a corner of the 
room and addressed the meeting in the following words: — ■ 
" Brethren, let me tell you this : I have heard Daniel Row- 
lands preach, and I heard him once say, Except your con- 
sciences be cleansed by the blood of Christ, you must all 
perish in the eternal fires." Rowlands, at that time, had been 
dead more than a quarter of a century. Yet, even at that 
interval, " though dead he spoke." It is a faithful saying, and 
worthy of all remembrance, that the ministry which exalts 
Christ crucified most, is the ministry which produces most last- 
ing effects. Never, perhaps, did any preacher exalt Christ more 
than Rowlands did, and never did preacher leave behind him 
such deep and abiding marks in the isolated corner of the 
world where he laboured a hundred years ago. 



VIII. 




CHAPTER 1. 

Born at Kingston, Notts, 1716— Educated at Nottingham— Fails to learn the Business of a 
Grazier — Goes to Clare Hall, Cambridge, 1734 — Elected Fellow of Clare, 1742— 
Curate of Stapleford, 1749 — Vicar of Everton, 1755 — Begins to Preach the Full Gospel, 
1757 — Open-air Preaching — Itinerant and Extra-parochial Ministrations — Singular Phy- 
sical Effect on some Hearers — Opposition and Persecution — Dies, 1793 — His Epitaph. 

HUNDRED years ago there were spiritual giants in 
the Eastern Counties of England, as well as in Lan- 
cashire and Wales. The sixth leader of the great 
revival of last century whom I wish to introduce to my readers, 
was a man as remarkable in his way as either Grimshaw or Row- 
lands. Like them, he lived in an obscure and out-of-the-way 
village. But, like them, he shook the earth around him, and was 
one of those who "turn the world upside down." The man I mean 
is John Berridge, Vicar of Everton, in the county of Bedfordshire. 
Of all the English evangelists of the eighteenth century, this 
good man was undeniably the most quaint and eccentric. With- 
out controversy he was a very odd person, a comet rather than 
a planet, a man who must be put in a class by himself, a 
minister who said and did things which nobody else could say 
or do. But the eccentricities of the Vicar of Everton are pro- 
bably better known than his graces. With all his peculiarities, 
he was a man of rare gifts, and deeply taught by the Holy Ghost. 
Above all, he was a mighty instrument for good in the orbit in 



B1R TH OF J OHN BER RIDGE. 2 1 7 

which he moved. Few preachers, perhaps, a hundred years 
ago, were more honoured by God and more useful to souls than 
the eccentric John Berridge. 

My account of this good man is compiled from very scanty 
materials. A single volume, of no great size, containing his 
literary remains, and a short biography by his curate, Mr. Whit- 
tingham, is the only source of information about him that I can 
find. In this, however, there is nothing that should surprise us. 
He was never married, and lived entirely alone. He resided- 
in an isolated rural parish, far away from London, in days when 
there were no railways, and even turnpike roads were not good. 
He was settled at a distance from his own family, in a county 
where, apparently, he had no relatives or connections. He 
wrote very little, and was chiefly known by his preaching. 
Add to these facts the mighty one, that Berridge belonged to 
" a sect everywhere spoken against," and we need not wonder 
that the records remaining of him are very few. But there is a 
memorial of him that will never perish. The last day will show 
that his Master kept " a book of remembrance," and that " his 
record was on high." 

John Berridge was born at Kingston, in the county of Not- 
tinghamshire, on March 1, 17 16, within a very few years of 
Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw, Romaine, and Rowlands. The 
village in which he was born may be seen any day from Keg- 
worth Station by those who travel to the north along the Mid- 
land Railway. His father was a wealthy farmer and grazier 
at Kingston, who married a Miss Sarah Hathwaite, in the year 
1 7 14. John Berridge was his eldest son. He had three other 
sons, about whom I can find out nothing, except that his brother 
Thomas lived and died at Chatteris, in the Isle of Ely, and 
survived the subject of this memoir.* 

* A well-informed correspondent expresses some doubt as to Thomas Berridge having 
died at Chatteris. He says there is reason to think that he lived and died at Draycott in 
Derbyshire. He also says that in 1841 a direct lineal descendant of one of John Berridge's 

brothers was living at Sutton-Bonnington, in Nottinghamshire. 



2 1 8 ED UCA TED AT NO TTINGHA M. 

The first fourteen years of Berridge's life were chiefly spent 
with an aunt at Nottingham, with whom he was a particular 
favourite. Here also he received the groundwork of his educa- 
tion, but at what school, and under what teacher, I have been 
unable to ascertain. It is evident that even when a boy he was 
remarkable for seriousness and steadiness ; so much so, as to 
excite the attention of all who knew him. There is not, how- 
ever, the slightest proof that he knew anything at this time of 
scriptural religion ; nor was it likely, I fear, in those days, that 
he would hear anything about it in Nottingham. No doubt, in 
after-life he had abundant reason to be thankful for his early 
morality. Steadiness and correctness of life, of course, are not 
conversion, and save no man's soul. But still they are not to 
be despised. The scars left by youthful sins, even after for- 
giveness and complete reconciliation with God, are never wholly 
effaced, and the recollection of them often causes bitter sorrow. 

Berridge himself ascribes his first serious impressions to a 
singular circumstance : — " One day, as he was returning from 
school, a boy, who lived near his aunt, invited him into his 
house, and asked if he might read to him out of the Bible. He 
consented. This, however, being repeated several times, he 
began to feel a secret aversion, and would gladly have declined 
if he had dared. But having obtained the reputation of being 
pious, he was afraid to risk it by refusal. One day, however, 
as he was returning from a fair, where he had been spending a 
holiday, he hesitated to pass the door of his neighbour, lest he 
should be invited as before. The boy, however, was waiting 
for him, and not only invited him to come in and read the 
Bible, but also asked if they should pray together. It was then 
that Berridge began to perceive he was not right before God, or 
else he would not have felt the aversion that he did to the boy's 
invitations. And such, he says, was the effect of that day's 
interview, that not long afterwards he himself began a similar 
practice with his companions." 



UNFIT FOR A GRAZIER. 219 

Facts such as these are always interesting to those who study 
: God's ways of dealing with souls. It is clear that he often 
"moves on the face" of hearts by his Spirit long before he 
i introduces light, order, and life. We must never despise the 
" day of small things." The impressions and convictions of 
t children, especially, ought never to be rudely treated or over- 
looked. They have often a green spot in their characters which 
1 ought to be carefully cultivated by good advice, kind encourage- 
i ment, and prayer. Berridge, unfortunately, seems to have had 
no one near him at this critical period to guide and direct him. 
Who can tell but the counsel of some Aquila or Priscilla, if they 
had found him at Nottingham, might have saved him from 
many years of darkness, and from many agonizing exercises of 
mind ? 

At the age of fourteen Berridge left school, and returned to 
his home at Kingston, with the intention of taking up his 
father's business. This plan, however, soon fell to the ground. 
For some time his father used to take him about to markets 
and fairs, in order that he might become familiar with the price 
of cattle, sheep, and pigs, and learn his business by observa 
tion and experience. The next step, of course, was to ask him 
to give his judgment of the value of animals which his father 
wished to purchase — a matter in which necessarily lies the 
whole secret of a grazier's success. Here, however, poor John 
was so invariably wrong in his estimates, that old Mr. Berridge 
began to despair of ever making him fit to be a grazier ; and 
used often to say, "John, I find you cannot form any idea of 
the price of cattle, and I shall have to send you to college to 
be a light to the Gentiles." 

How long this state of suspense about Berridge's future life 
continued, we have no means of ascertaining. In all proba- 
bility it went on for two or three years, and was a cause of much 
family trouble. An old Nottinghamshire grazier was not likely 
to let his eldest son forsake oxen and sheep, and go to college, 



220 GOES TO CLARE HALL, CAMBRIDGE, 

without a hard struggle to prevent him. But the son's distaste 
for his father's calling was deep and insuperable. His religious 
impressions, moreover, were kept up and deepened by conversa- 
tion with a tailor in Kingston, with whom he became so inti- 
mate that his friends threatened to bind him to articles of 
apprenticeship under him. At last old Mr. Berridge, seeing 
that his son had no apparent inclination for anything but read- 
ing and religion, had the good sense to give up his cherished 
plans, and to consent to his going to Cambridge. And thus 
John Berridge was finally entered at Clare Hall on October 28, 
1734, in the nineteenth year of his age. 

God's ways are certainly not like man's ways. Curious as it 
may appear, for fourteen or fifteen years after entering Clare 
Hall, John Berridge seems to have gone backward rather than 
forward in spiritual things. He took his degree as B.A. in 1738, 
and as M.A. in 1742; and about the same time was elected 
Fellow of his College, and resided there, doing comparatively 
nothing, till 1749. He was a hard-reading man, and made such 
progress in every branch of literature that he obtained a high 
reputation in the University as a thorough scholar. A clergy- 
man who knew him well for fifty years, said that he was as 
familiar with Greek and Latin as he was with his mother tongue. 
He says himself that he sometimes, at this period of his life, 
read fifteen hours a-day. But his very cleverness became a 
snare to him. His natural love of humour and social disposi- 
tion entailed on him many temptations. His acquaintance was 
courted by people of high rank and position ; and men like the 
elder Pitt, afterwards Lord Chatham, were among his intimate 
associates and friends. All this, no doubt, was very pleasant to 
flesh and blood, but very bad for his soul. In short, he had to 
learn, by bitter experience, that wit and brilliant powers of con- 
versation, like beauty, musical skill, and a fine voice, are very 
perilous possessions. They seem to help people forward in this 
world, but they are in reality most dangerous to their possessors. 



HIS ORDINATION. 221 

Whittingham, his biographer, says of him at this time : — 
| ' Hudibras ' was so familiar to him, that he was at no loss in 
using any part of it on any occasion. While- he was at college, 
if it was known he would be present at any public dinner, the 
table was sure to be crowded with company, who were delighted 
with the singularity of his conversation and his witty sayings. 
i But as 'evil communications corrupt good manners,' so Ber- 
ridge speedily caught the spirit of his company, and drank in 
the Socinian scheme of religion to such a degree that he lost 
all his serious impressions, and discontinued private prayer for 
the space often years, a few intervals excepted ! In these in- 
tervals he would weep bitterly, reflecting on his sad state of 
mind compared with what it was when he first came to the 
Universitv; and he would often say to a fellow- student, after- 
wards an eminent clergyman, ' Oh that it were with me as in 
' years past !' " 

This part of Berridge's history is indeed a melancholy picture. 
It is the more so when we remember that it was during this 
period of his life that he must have taken holy orders as a Fel- 
low of Clare Hall, and professed that he was " inwardly moved 
by the Holy Ghost" to take upon him the office of a minister ! 
He was probably ordained by the Bishop of Ely. How utterly 
unfit he was for the ministerial office, we may see at a glance 
from the account given of him by Whittingham. Yet it is a 
sorrowful fact, I fear, that the case of Berridge has only been 
that of thousands. No earthly condition appears to be so 
deadening to a man's soul as the position of a resident Fellow 
of a college, and the society of a Common room at Oxford or 
Cambridge. If Berridge fell for a season before the influences 
brought to bear upon his soul at Clare Hall, we must in justice 
remember that he was exposed to extraordinary temptations. 
How hardly shall resident Fellows of colleges enter the kingdom 

of God ! It was a miracle of grace that he was not cast away for 

i 

ever, and did not sink beneath the waters, never to rise again. 



222 CURATE OF STAPLEFORD. 

In the year 1749 it pleased God to awaken his conscience 
once more, and to revive within him his old religious im- 
pressions. In that year, after eleven years of apparent idleness, 
he began to feel a desire to do something as a clergyman, and 
accepted the curacy of Stapleford, near Cambridge. At this 
period, it will be remembered, he was thirty-three years old, and 
thus had lost no less than ten valuable years of time. 

Berridge entered on his duties as curate of Stapleford with 
great zeal, and a sincere desire to do good, and served his 
church regularly from college for no less than six years. He 
took great pains with his parishioners, and pressed upon them 
very earnestly the importance of sanctification, but without pro- 
ducing the slightest effect on their lives. His preaching, even 
at this time, was striking, plain, and attractive. His life was 
moral, upright, and correct. His diligence as a pastor was 
undeniable. Yet his ministry, throughout these six years, was 
entirely without fruit, to his own great annoyance and mortifica- 
tion. The fact was, that up to this time he was utterly ignorant 
of the gospel. He did not really know what message he had 
to deliver to his hearers. He knew nothing aright of Christ 
crucified, of justification by faith in his blood, of salvation by 
grace, of the complete present forgiveness of all who believe, 
and of the absolute necessity of coming to Christ as our Saviour, 
as the very first step towards heaven. At present these blessed 
truths were hidden from the Fellow of Clare College, and he 
could tell his people nothing about them. No wonder that he 
did no good ! If he wounded, he could not heal. If he pulled 
down, he could not build up. If he showed his flock that they 
were wrong, he had no idea what could set them right. In 
short, his Christianity was like a solar system without the sim, 
and of course did no good to his congregation. There can be 
no doubt that he learned lessons as curate of Stapleford which 
he remembered to the last day of his life. He learned the 
thorough uselessness of a ministry, however zealous, in which 



VICAR OF EVER TON. 223 

Christ has not his rightful office, and faith has not its rightful 
place. But we may well believe that the clever and accom- 
, plished Fellow of Clare learned his lesson with much humiliation 
j and with many bitter tears. 

5 In the year 1755 Berridge was presented by his college to 
j, the vicarage of Everton, in Bedfordshire. He took up his 
residence at once on his living, and never moved again till he 
I was called away to abetter world, after holding his cure for no 
l less than thirty-eight years. It was at this place that his eyes 
5 were opened to the whole truth as it is in Jesus, and the whole 
1 tone of his ministry was changed. It was here that he first 
found out the enormous mistakes of which he had been guilty 
as a teacher of others, and began to preach in a scriptural 
; manner the real gospel of Christ. The circumstances under 
which this change took place are so well described by his bio- 
grapher Whittingham, that I think it best to give the account in 
his own words. 

" At Everton," he says, " Mr. Berridge at first pressed sanctifi- 

cation and regeneration on his hearers as strenuously as he had 

at Stapleford, but with as little success. Nor was it to be 

wondered at, as his preaching rather tended to make them trust 

i in themselves as righteous, than to depend on Christ for the 

1 remission of sins. Having continued for two years in this 

I unsuccessful mode of preaching, and his desire to do good con- 

j tinually increasing, he began to be discouraged. A doubt arose 

i in his mind whether he was right himself, and preached as he 

ought to do. This suggestion he rejected for some time with 

disdain, supposing the advantages of education, which he had 

improved to a high degree, could not have left him ignorant of 

the best mode of instructing his people. This happened about 

Christmas 1757. But not being able to repel these secret mis- 

. givings, his mind was brought into a state of embarrassment 

. and distress to which hitherto he had been a stranger. How- 

|j ever, this had the happy effect of making him cry mightily to 



224 FAITH AND BELIEF. 

God for direction. The constant language of his heart was 
this — ' Lord, if I am right, keep me so ; if I am not right, make 
me so, and lead me to the knowledge of the truth as it is in 
Jesus.' — After the incessant repetition of this child-like prayer, 
it is no wonder that God should lend a gracious ear, and return 
him an answer, which he did almost two days after. As he sat 
one morning musing on a text of Scripture, the following words 
seemed to dart into his mind like a voice from heaven — ' Cease 
from thine own works ; only believe.' At once the scales 
seemed to fall from his eyes, and he perceived the application. 
He saw the rock on which he had been splitting for many years, 
by endeavouring to blend the Law and the Gospel, and to 
unite Christ's righteousness with his own. Immediately he 
began to think on the words 'faith' and 'believe,' and looking 
into his Concordance, found them very frequently used. This 
surprised him so much, that he instantly resolved to preach 
Jesus Christ and salvation by faith. He therefore composed 
several sermons of this description, and addressed his hearers 
in a manner very unusual, and far more pointed than before. 

" God very soon began to bless this new style of ministry. 
After he had preached in this strain two or three Sabbaths, and 
Was wondering whether he was yet right, as he had perceived 
no better effect from them than from his former discourses, one 
of his parishioners came to inquire for him. Being introduced, 
he said, 'Well, Sarah, what is the matter V— 1 Matter ! ' she 
replied \ ' why, I don't know what is the matter. Those new 
sermons ! I find we are all to be lost now. I can neither 
eat, drink, nor sleep. I don't know what is to become of me.' 
The same week came two or three more on a like errand. It 
is easy to conceive what relief these visits must have afforded 
his mind in a state of anxiety and suspense. So confirmed was 
he thereby in the persuasion that his late impressions were from 
God, that he determined in future to know nothing but Jesus 
Christ and him crucified. He was deeply humbled that he 



PREACHES THE GOSPEL. '225 

should have spent so many years of his life to no better purpose 
than to confirm his hearers in their ignorance. He therefore 
immediately burned all his old sermons, and shed tears of joy 
over their destruction. This circumstance aroused the neigh- 
bourhood. His church soon became crowded with hearers, and 
God gave testimony to the word of his grace in the frequent 
conviction and conversion of sinners." 

In describing this period of his life, Berridge says himself, in 
a letter to a friend : " I preached up sanctification by the works 
of the law very earnestly for six years in Stapleford, and never 
brought one soul to Christ. I did the same at Everton for two 
years, without any success at all. But as soon as I preached 
Jesus Christ, and faith in his blood, then believers were added 
to the Church continually ; then people flocked from all parts 
to hear the glorious sound of the gospel; some coming six 
miles, others eight, and others ten. And what is the reason 
I why my ministry was not blessed, when I preached up salvation 
partly by faith and partly by works 1 It is because this doctrine 
is not of God, and because he will prosper no ministers but such 
as preach salvation in his own appointed way ; namely, by faith 
in Jesus Christ." 

I pity the man who can read such an account as this without 
interest. If ever there was a case in which we can see clearly 
the hand of the Holy Spirit, it was this case of John Berridge. 
Here is a clergyman in the prime of bodily and mental vigour, 
suddenly changed from being a preacher of morality into a 
preacher of Christ's gospel. He is not a mere boy, but a man 
of forty-two years of age, well read, of acknowledged literary 
attainments, and the very reverse of a fool. He is not per- 
suaded and influenced by any living person, and seems to have 
no earthly friend or adviser. Yet all of a sudden he begins to 
preach the very same doctrine as Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw, 
Romaine, and Rowlands, and with the same effects. One 
account alone can be given of the whole affair. It was the 

U95) 1 5 



226 BEGINS OPEN-AIR PREACHING. 

finger of God. Flesh and blood did not reveal the truth to 
Berridge, but our Father who is in heaven. Well would it be 
for the churches if there were more cases like his ! 

Once enlightened by the Holy Ghost and brought into the 
liberty of God's children, John Berridge made rapid advances 
both in preaching and practice. He was not a man to do any- 
thing by halves, whether converted or unconverted ; and as 
soon as he was converted he threw himself with constitutional 
energy into his Master's service, with all his might, and soul, 
and strength. The learned Fellow of Clare soon ceased to 
preach written sermons, having discovered, by a providential 
accident, that he possessed the happy gift of preaching without 
book. His next step was to commence preaching outside his 
own parish, all over the district in which he lived, like a 
missionary. This he began on June 22, 1758. One of the 
first-fruits of this itinerant aggression was a clergyman named 
Hicks, rector of Wrestlingworth, near Everton, who afterwards 
became a very useful man, and a faithful labourer in Christ's 
vineyard. His third and crowning step was to commence 
preaching out of doors. This he began doing on May 14, 1759, 
and describes it himself in a letter quoted by Whittingham : — 
" On Monday week, Mr. Hicks accompanied me to Meldred. 
On the way we called at a farm-house. After dinner, I went 
into the yard, and seeing nearly a hundred and fifty people, I 
called for a table, and preached for the first time in the open 
air. We then went to Meldred, where I preached in a field to 
about four thousand people. In the morning, at five, Mr. 
Hicks preached in the same field to about a thousand. Here 
the presence of the Lord was wonderfully among us ; and I 
trust, beside many that were slightly wounded, nearly thirty 
received heart-felt conviction." 

Berridge had now climbed to the top of the tree as an evan- 
gelist. He preached the pure gospel ; he preached extempore ; 
he preached anywhere and everywhere where he could get 



EXTENT OF HIS LABOURS. 227 

hearers ; he preached, like his Master, in the open air, if need 
required. We cannot therefore wonder that he was soon pub- 
licly known as a fellow-labourer with Whitefield, Wesley, Grim- 
shaw, and Romaine, and, as a popular preacher, little inferior 
to any of these great men. His life from this time forth, with 
little intermission, for more than thirty years, was spent in 
preaching the gospel. To this work he gave himself wholly. 
In season and out of season, out of doors or in doors, in 
churches or in barns, in streets or in fields, in his parish or out 
( of his parish, the old Fellow of Clare College was constantly 

I telling the story of the Cross, and exhorting sinners to repent, 

II believe, and be saved. He became acquainted with Lady 
« Huntingdon, John Thornton, John Wesley, Fletcher, John 
i Newton, and other eminent Christians of his day, and kept up 
i friendly intercourse with them. He went to London sorae- 
f times in the winter, and preached occasionally in the well- 
1 known Tabernacle in Tottenham Court Road. But, as a gene- 
i ral rule, he seldom went far from his own district, and rarely 
J went into society. He found enough, and more than enough, 
} to do in meeting the spiritual wants of congregations within 

that district, and seldom went to regions beyond. 

The extent of his labours was prodigious. He used to preach 
i in every part of Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire, and Hunting- 
donshire, and in many parts of Hertfordshire, Essex, and 
Suffolk.* He would often preach twelve times, and ride a 
(hundred miles in a week. Nor was he content with preaching. 
He watched carefully over those who were aroused by his ser- 
s mons, and provided lay evangelists to look after them when he 
'left them. Some of these evangelists appear to have been 
\ nothing but humble labouring men, for whose maintenance he 
had to provide out of his own pocket. But expenses like these 



* It is a singular fact that I can find no record of Berridgc ever having visited Notting- 
hamshire, or preached in his own county. I can only suppose that his relatives did not 
sympathize with him, and gave him no encouragement to come among them. 



228 EFFE CTS OF HIS PRE A CHING. 

he cheerfully defrayed out of his own purse as long as he had 
a shilling to spare, counting it an honour to spend his income 
in furthering Christ's gospel. When he had nothing of his own 
to give, he would ask help of the well-known John Thornton, 
the London merchant ; and to the honour of that good man he 
never seems to have asked in vain. 

The spiritual effects that were produced by his preaching 
were immense. In fact, a singular blessing appears to have 
attended his ministry from the very moment that he began to 
preach the gospel. When we find that he was the means of 
awakening no less than four thousand persons in one single 
year, we may have some little idea of the good that he did in 
his district by his thirty years' preaching. In calculations like 
these, allowance must always be made for a vast amount of 
exaggeration, and for an equally vast amount of excitement and 
false profession. Still, after every reasonable deduction has 
been made, there is no just ground for doubting that Berridge 
was the means of doing good to thousands of souls. Wherever 
he went he produced some impression. Some were reclaimed 
from sin, some were awakened and convinced, and some were 
thoroughly converted to God. If this is not doing good, there 
is no such thing as doing good in the world. Spiritual work 
done in rural parishes is, perhaps, less "seen of men" than any 
work within the province of the Christian ministry. The work 
that Berridge did among farmers and labourers had few to pro- 
claim and chronicle it. But I strongly suspect the last day will 
prove that he was a man who seldom preached in vain. How 
few there are of whom this can be said ! 

It is undeniable that at certain periods of Berridge's ministry 
very curious physical effects were produced on those who were 
aroused by his preaching. Some of his hearers cried out aloud 
hysterically, some were thrown into strong convulsions, and 
some fell into a kind of trance or catalepsy, which lasted a long 
time. These physical effects were carefully noticed by John 



OPPOSITION AND PERSECUTION. 229 

' Wesley and others who witnessed them, and certainly tended to 
: bring discredit on the gospel, and to prejudice worldly people. 
' But it is only fair to Berridge to say, that he never encouraged 
1 these demonstrations, and certainly did not regard them as a 
! necessary mark of conversion. That such phenomena will 
I sometimes appear in cases of strong religious excitement — 
! that they are peculiarly catching and infectious, especially 
j : among young women — that even the most scientific medical 
j l men are greatly puzzled to explain them, — all these are facts 
' which have been thoroughly established within the last twenty 
; years during the Irish revival. To attempt to depreciate Ber- 
' ridge's usefulness because of these things, is simply ridiculous. 
: Whatever the faults of the vicar of Everton were, he certainly 
1 does not seem to have favoured fanaticism. That he was per- 
1 plexed by the physical demonstrations I have described, and 
1 at first attached more value to them than they deserved, is the 
1 utmost that can be said against him on the subject. But, after 
1 all, the same may be said of many calm and sober-minded wit- 
\ nesses who saw the Ulster revival in 1858. In short, the whole 
'subject, like demoniacal possession, is a very deep and mys- 
terious one, and there we must be content to leave it. But a 
minister ought certainly not to be put down as a fanatic because 
I people go into convulsions under his preaching 
1 It is needless to tell any Christian that Berridge was fiercely 
1 persecuted by the world throughout the whole period of his 
' ministry. No name was too bad to be given to him. No 
1 means were left untried by his enemies to stop him in his useful 
career. Foremost, of course, among his persecutors were the 
\ unconverted clergy of Bedfordshire, Huntingdonshire, and Cam- 
bridgeshire, who, like the dog in the manger, would neither do 
good themselves nor let any one else do it for them. But, 
singularly enough, no weapon forged against the vicar of Everton 
seemed to prosper. Like Grimshaw at Haworth, there was an 
invisible wall of protection around him, which his bitterest foes 



230 COMPLAINT TO THE BISHOP. 

could not pull down. Irregular as his proceedings undoubtedly 
were, offensive as they necessarily must have been to the idle, 
worldly Clergymen who lived near him, they appeared unable 
to lay hold upon him and shut his mouth, from one end of his 
ministry to the other. From some extraordinary cause which 
we cannot now explain, the itinerant evangelist of Everton was 
never stopped by his persecutors for a single day ! So true is 
the Word of God : " When a man's ways please the Lord, he 
maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him." 

One special interposition of God in order to protect Berridge 
from his enemies was so remarkable that it deserves particular 
notice. It derives a peculiar interest from the fact that the 
record of it has been handed down in the good man's own 
words. He says : — 

" Soon after I began to preach the gospel of Christ at Ever- 
ton, the church was filled from the villages around us, and the 
neighbouring clergy felt themselves hurt at their churches being 
deserted. A person of my own parish, too, was much offended. 
He did not like to see so many strangers, and be so incom- 
moded. Between them both, it was resolved, if possible, to 
turn me out of my living. For this purpose, they complained 
of me to the bishop of the diocese, that I had preached out of 
my parish. I was soon after sent for by the bishop ; I did not 
much like my errand, but I went. When I arrived, the bishop 
accosted me in a very abrupt manner : ' Well, Berridge, they 
tell me you go about preaching out of your own parish. Did I 

institute you to the livings of A y, or E n, or P n V 

— ' No, my lord,' said I ; [ neither do I claim any of these 
livings. The clergymen enjoy them undisturbed by me.' — 
' Well, but you go and preach there, which you have no right 

to do !' — ' It is true, my lord, I was one day at E n, and 

there were a few poor people assembled together, and I admon- 
ished them to repent of their sins, and to believe in the Lord 
Jesus Christ for the salvation of their souls; and I remember 



THREA TENING AND ENTREA TING. 23 1 

seeing five or six clergymen that day, my lord, all out of their 

own parishes upon E n bowling-green.' — ' Poh ! ' said his 

lordship ; ' I tell you, you have no right to preach out of your 
own parish; and if you do not desist from it, you will very 
likely be sent to Huntingdon gaol' — ' As to that, my lord,' said 
I, ' I have no greater liking to Huntingdon gaol than other 
people ; but I had rather go thither with a good conscience, 
than live at my liberty without one.' — Here his lordship looked 
very hard at me, and very gravely assured me ' that I was be- 
side myself, and that in a few months' time I should either be 
better or worse.' — ' Then,' said I, ' my lord, you may make your- 
self quite happy in this business ; for if I should be better, you 
suppose I should desist from this practice of my own accord ; and 
if worse, you need not send me to Huntingdon gaol, as I shall be 
provided with an accommodation in Bedlam.' — His lordship 
now changed his mode of attack. Instead of threatening, he 
began to entreat. ' Berridge,' said he, ' you know I have long 
been your friend, and I wish to be so still. I am continually 
teazed with the complaints of the clergymen around you. Only 
assure me that you will keep to your own parish ; you may do 
as you please there. I have but little time to live; do not 
bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.' — At this 
instant two gentlemen were announced, who desired to speak 
with his lordship. ' Berridge,' said he, ' go to your inn, and 
come again at such an hour, and dine with me.' — I went, and, 
on entering a private room, fell immediately upon my knees. 
I could bear threatening, but knew not how to withstand en- 
treaty, especially the entreaty of a respectable old man. 

" At the appointed time I returned. At dinner I was treated 
with great respect. The two gentlemen also dined with us. I 
found they had been, informed who I was, as they sometimes 
cast their eyes towards me, in some such manner as one would 
glance at a monster. After dinner his lordship took me into 
the garden. ' Well, Berridge,' said he, ' have you considered of 



232 AN ENEMY BECOMES A FRIEND. 

my request V — ' I have, my lord/ said I, ' and have been upon 
my knees concerning it.' — ' Well, and will you promise me that 
you will preach no more out of your own parish V — ' It would 
afford me great pleasure,' said I, ' to comply with your lordship's 
request, if I could do it with a good conscience. I am satisfied 
the Lord has blessed my labours of this kind, and I dare not 
desist.' — ' A good conscience !' said his lordship ; ' do you not 
know that it is contrary to the canons of the Church V — ' There 
is one canon, my lord,' I replied, ' which says, " Go preach the 
gospel to every creature." ' — ' But why should you wish to inter- 
fere with the charge of other men ? One man cannot preach 
the gospel to all the world.' — ' If they would preach the gospel 
themselves,' said I, ' there would be no need for my preaching 
it to their people ; but, as they do not, I cannot desist' — His 
lordship then parted with me in some displeasure. I returned 
home not knowing what would befall me, but thankful to God 
that I had preserved a conscience void of offence. 

" I took no measures for my own preservation ; but Divine 
Providence worked for me in a way I never expected. When 
I was at Clare Hall I was particularly acquainted with a certain 
Fellow of that college, and we were both on terms of intimacy 
with Mr. Pitt, the late Lord Chatham, who was at that time also 
at the university. This Fellow of Clare Hall, when I began to 
preach the gospel, became my_ enemy, and did me some injury. 
At length, however, when he heard that I was likely to come 
into trouble, and to be turned out of my living at Everton, his 
heart relented. He began to think within himself, ' We shall 
ruin this poor fellow among us.' This was just about the time 
that I was sent for by the bishop. Of his own accord he writes 
a letter to Mr. Pitt, saying nothing about my Methodism, but 
to this effect : — ' Our old friend Berridge has got a living in 
Bedfordshire, and I am told there is one of his neighbours who 
gives him a great deal of trouble, has accused him to the bishop, 
and, it is said, will turn him out of his living. I wish you would 



OWEN'S VISIT TO BERRIDGE. 233 

contrive to stop his proceedings.' Mr. Pitt was then a young 
man, and, not desiring to apply himself to the bishop, spoke to 
a certain nobleman about it to whom the bishop was indebted 
for his promotion. This nobleman made it his business, within a 
few days, to see the bishop, who was then in London. ' My lord,' 
he said, ' I am informed you have a very honest fellow named 
Berridge in your diocese, and that he has been ill-treated by a 
litigious neighbour. I hear he has accused him to your lord- 
ship, and wishes to turn him out of his living. You would 
oblige me, my lord, if you would take no notice of this person, 
and not suffer the honest man to be interrupted.' — The bishop 
was astonished, and could not imagine in what manner things 
could thus have got round. It would not do, however, to ob- 
ject ; he was obliged to bow compliance, and so I continued 
ever after uninterrupted in my sphere of action." 

Great as Berridge's labours were, they do not appear to have 
materially affected his bodily health. He seems to have pos- 
sessed one of those iron constitutions, which nothing but old 
age can quite break down. He lived to be seventy-seven; and 
though in his latter years a feeble old man, and very solitary, 
without wife, sister, or brother, to minister to him, he was mer- 
cifully kept in great peace to the last. Henry Owen's account 
of a visit to him in 1792, the year before he died, is very touch- 
ing and interesting. He says, " I lately visited my dear brother 
Berridge. His sight is very dim, his ears can scarcely hear, 
and his faculties are fast decaying, so that, if he continues any 
time, he may outlive the use of them. But in this ruin of his 
earthly tabernacle it is surprising to see the joy in his counte- 
nance, and the lively hope with which he looks for the day of 
his dissolution. In his prayer with me and my children, we 
were much affected by his commending himself to the Lord, as 
quite alone, not able to read or hear, or do anything. But he 
said, ' Lord, if I have thy presence and love, that sufficeth.' " 

Berridge died at Everton vicarage on January 22nd, 1793. 



234 DEATH OF B ERR IDG E. 

For some little time the infirmities natural to his years had pre- 
vented him doing much public work. But he was most merci- 
fully spared any long season of pain and disease, and died after 
only a few days' illness, the weary wheels of life not so much 
broken by sickness as worn out and standing still. His frame 
of mind during his last days was very comfortable. He spoke 
but little, but what he did say was in terms of gratitude for the 
rich support he experienced in the prospect of eternity. He 
felt the stability of the rock on which he had been long resting 
his hopes of heaven ; and while speaking of the excellency and 
preciousness of the Saviour, he said in an emphatic manner, 
" What should I do now if I had no better foundation to rest 
upon than what Dr. Priestley the Socinian points out?" 

He was buried in Everton churchyard on the following Sun- 
day, amidst an immense concourse of people assembled from 
all parts of the country. 

Six clergymen, " devout men, carried him to his grave, and 
made great lamentation over him." A funeral sermon was then 
preached by the well-known Charles Simeon, from 2 Tim. iv. 7, 
8, a text admirably well suited to the occasion. Old Henry 
Venn of Yelling, his son John Venn, and Charles Simeon, were 
among the few neighbours with whom the good old Vicar of 
Everton felt entire sympathy; and his letters give frequent evi- 
dence of the value he set on them, and the pleasure he took in 
their society. 

Berridge's tomb is placed on the north-east side of Everton 
churchyard, where formerly those only were buried who had 
come to some dishonourable end. But before he died he fre- 
quently said that his remains should be laid in that part of the 
churchyard, which, he said with characteristic pleasantry, might 
be " a means of consecrating it." His epitaph, composed by 
himself, is so remarkable in its way, that I think it needless to 
make any excuse for giving it entire. It is inscribed on the 
south side of his tomb, and at the time of his death required 



HIS EPITAPH. 235 

nothing but the date of that event being inserted to complete 
ft. True to himself Berridge was quaint even to his grave. 

Here lie 
the earthly remains of 

Jfuhn §zxxxb$z, 

LATE VICAR OF EVERTON, 

AND AN ITINERANT SERVANT OF JESUS CHRIST, 

WHO LOVED HIS MASTER AND HIS WORK, 

AND AFTER RUNNING ON HIS ERRANDS MANY YEARS 

WAS CALLED UP TO WAIT ON HIM ABOVE. 

READER, 

Art thou born again ? 

No salvation without a new birth ! 

I was born in sin, February 1716. 

Remained ignorant of my fallen state till 1730. 

Lived proudly on faith and works for salvation till 1754. 

Was admitted to Everton vicarage, 1751. 

Fled to Jesus alone for refuge, 1756. 

Fell asleep in Christ, January 22, 1793. 

I leave the Vicar of Everton here. I have yet other things to 
tell about him, but I have no room to give them now. A few 
anecdotes illustrating his character, and some account of his 
sermons, literary remains, and correspondence, will form the 
substance of another chapter. 



CHAPTER II. 

His Quaintness and Eccentricity — No Quaintness in his Outlines of Sermons — His Style 
of Preaching Defended — Specimen of his Quaint Thoughts — His Humility, Love of 
Christ, Kindness, Self-Denial, Shrewdness, Courage — His Sympathizing letters. 

Every student of natural history knows well that some of God's 
creatures are curiously odd-looking and grotesque. There are 
birds, like the American toucan, with bills of such enormous 



236 BERRIDGE'S QUAINTNESS AND ECCENTRICITY. 

size that we cannot understand how they are used. There are 
beasts, like the Mandril baboon, marked with such brilliant 
blue and red colours that we are fairly at a loss to explain their 
object. Yet they are all the work of an all-wise Creator. Our 
Father made them all. Not one of them could have been made 
better. Each and all, we need not doubt, is perfectly adapted 
for the place in creation which it was intended to fill. 

Thoughts such as these come across my mind when I survey 
the character of John Berridge, Vicar of Everton. Never, pro- 
bably, did the grace of God dwell in a vessel of such singularly 
tempered clay. There was a strange vein of quaintness in his 
mental constitution, which seemed to crop out and bubble up 
on every occasion. He was continually saying odd things, and 
employing odd illustrations to convey his meaning. I do not 
for a moment think that he was an intentional "joker of jokes," 
or really wished to set people laughing ; but his mind was so 
peculiarly compounded that he could not help putting things 
in a ludicrous way. It was in vain that his friends warned him 
of his besetting sin, and entreated him to lay it aside. The 
poor old evangelist acknowledged his infirmity, and pleaded 
that he was born with a fool's cap on, and that a fool's cap was 
not so easily put off as a night-cap. Hard as he strove to keep 
down his enemy, it was never completely subdued. "Odd 
things," he said, " break from me as abruptly as croaking from 
a raven." The habit of quaintness was bone of his bones and 
flesh of his flesh. It stuck to him as closely as his skin, and 
never left him until he was laid in the grave. Quaintly he 
thought and quaintly he spoke, quaintly he preached and 
quaintly he wrote, quaint he lived and quaint he died. In 
this respect I fully concede he was a beacon to be avoided, 
and not an example to be followed. 

While, however, I admit that Berridge was painfully quaint 
and odd, I do not at all admit the justice of Southey's remark, 
that he was " buffoon as well as fanatic." This judgment is 



HIS OUTLINES OF SERMONS. 237 

unwarrantably severe. The twenty-six Outlines of Sermons, 
which his biographer has published, contain abundant proof 
that the Vicar of Everton never deliberately prepared buffoonery 
for the pulpit. On the contrary, with one or two trifling ex- 
ceptions, there is a " conspicuous absence " of anything that 
could create a smile. The reader of these Outlines will find 
them very simple, very full of Scripture, very spiritual, and very 
evangelical. He will find in them, no doubt, nothing very deep 
or profound, nothing very striking or original ; though he will 
always find man painted in his true colours and put in his right 
place, and Christ magnified, glorified, and exalted in every page. 
But if he expects to find anything ludicrous, jocose, or absurd, 
any quaint anecdotes, or ridiculous illustrations, he will be 
utterly and entirely disappointed. I should like those who 
decry poor Berridge as a mere pulpit jester, to read over, with 
attention, the hundred pages in which Whittingham has recorded 
the remains of the good man's preaching. If they do not alter 
their opinion very materially, I shall be much surprised. They 
will probably agree with me that if the composer of such Out- 
lines of Sermons was a " buffoon and a fanatic," it would do 
no harm to the Church of England if she had a few more such 
" buffoons and fanatics " among her clergy. 

In justice to Berridge, I give it as my own deliberate opinion, 
that whatever quaintness there was in his sermons, was strictly 
confined to the extemporaneous part of them, or to the illus- 
trations which struck him on the spur of the moment. At any 
rate, there is little or no trace of it in his written Outlines. A 
man like the old Fellow of Clare Hall, of great natural genius, and 
a keen sense of the ludicrous, with his mind full of Aristophanes 
and Hudibras, might surely be lightly judged if he sometimes 
said odd things in his sermons. The excitement of seeing a 
great multitude hanging on his lips was doubtless great. The 
anxiety to say what would arrest and arouse was, doubtless, 
overwhelming. What wonder if he sometimes broke away from 



238 HIS STY IE DEFENDED. 

the outlines of his sermons, and said things in the heat of his 
zeal which in calmer moments he might condemn ] One thing, 
at any rate, is very clear from the remains of his preaching, and 
that is, that he was a methodical preacher. If he did occasion- 
ally break over the fence, and let fall odd sayings, he managed 
to get back into the road, and was sooner or later marching 
along in good order. 

After all, I venture to think that men are often far too 
squeamish in their judgment of preachers. Great allowance 
ought always to be made for those who, like Berridge, are con- 
stantly preaching in rural districts to uneducated congregations. 
None but those who have preached for many years in such 
districts can have the least idea of the preacher's difficulties. 
There is a gulf between his mind and the minds of his hearers 
of which few have the smallest conception. How to get at 
their understandings, how to make them comprehend what we 
are saying, is the grand problem that has to be solved. Their 
standard of taste is not that of Oxford or Cambridge. Things 
that sound coarse and vulgar and unrefined to a trained mind 
and a well educated ear, do not sound so to them. Their first 
and foremost want is to understand what the preacher is talking 
about; and he that can make poor farmers and labourers under- 
stand what he says is a preacher deserving of the highest praise. 
They care nothing for fine abstract ideas and rhetorical figures. 
They only care to hear what they can carry away. Now this, 
I suspect, was precisely the thing that Berridge never forgot. 
His grand aim was to make his hearers understand, and to 
attain that aim he sacrificed everything. If he made them 
smile, he also made them weep. If he excited them, he did 
not let them go to sleep. If he broke the rules of taste, and 
made men laugh, he also succeeded in breaking hard hearts, 
and making them repent. All honour be to him for his bold- 
ness ! Better a thousand times for men to smile and be con- 
verted, than to look stiff, and grave, and sleepy in their pews, 



HIS IITERARY REMAINS. 239 

and remain dead in trespasses and sins. I do not defend 
Berridge's escapades and transgressions of good taste. I do 
not recommend him as a model to young preachers. I only 
say that those who run him down and depreciate him because 
of his quaintness, would do well to remember that he did what 
many do not — he awakened and converted souls. Thousands 
of correct, and smooth, and prim, and proper clergymen are 
creeping through this world, who never broke a canon of taste 
in the pulpit, never told an anecdote, never used a vulgar illus- 
tration, and never raised a smile. They have their reward ! 
Their educated friends and relations admire them, and the 
world praises them. But they never prick a conscience, never 
frighten a sinner, never build up a saint, never pull down a 
single stone of the devil's kingdom — never save a soul. Give 
me the man who, like Berridge, may commit many mistakes, 
and offend many scrupulous ears, but yet reaches hearts, and 
helps to fill heaven. 

Those who wish to form a correct idea of the singularly 
quaint workings of Berridge's mind, must turn from the Outlines 
of his Sermons to his other literary remains. These remains 
consist of a collection of hymns called " Zioirs Songs," a prose 
work entitled " The Christian World Unmasked," and a selec- 
tion of private letters to friends. The hymns I shall leave 
alone. The Vicar of Everton was no more a poet than Cicero 
or Julius Caesar ; and although the doctrine of his hymns is very 
sound, the poetry of them is very poor, while the ideas they 
occasionally present are painfully ludicrous. The " Christian 
World Unmasked" is a dialogue between two imaginary 
characters about the way of salvation, and contains much that 
is pointed and clear; but it is written throughout in such a very 
unrefined style, that it is not likely to be extensively useful. 
The letters to private friends are excellent, and are worth all the 
rest of Whittingham's volume put together. From these and 
the " Christian World " I will now select a few specimens of 



240 EXTRACTS FROM HIS WRITINGS. 

Berridge's quaintness. I have spoken a good deal about it, 
and it is only just and fair to let the reader see what it was 
like. 

Let us hear how Berridge speaks of human nature : " Nature 
lost her legs in Paradise, and has not found them since ; nor 
has she any will to come to Jesus. The way is steep and 
narrow, full of self-denials, crowded up with stumbling-blocks : 
she cannot like it ; and when she does come, it is with huge 
complaining. Moses is obliged to flog her tightly, and make 
her heart ache, before she casts a weeping look on Jesus. 
Once she doated on this Jewish lawgiver, was fairly wedded to 
him, and sought to please him by her works — and he seemed a 
kindly husband ; but now, he grows so grim a tyrant, there 
is no bearing of him. When she takes a wrong step, his 
mouth is always full of cursing, and his resentment so im- 
placable, no weeping will appease him, nor promise of amend- 
ment." * 

Let us hear Berridge about the "Whole Duty of Man:" 
"The 'Whole Duty of Man' was sent abroad with a good 
intent, but has failed of its purpose, as all such teaching ever 
will. Morality has not thriven since its publication; and never 
can thrive, unless founded wholly upon grace. The heathen, 
for want of this foundation, could do nothing. They spoke 
some noble truths, but spoke to men with withered hearts and 
loathing appetites. They were like way-posts, which show a 
road, but cannot help a cripple forward ; and yet many of them 
preached higher morals than are often taught by their modern 
friends. In their way they were skilful fishermen, but fished 
without the gospel-bait, and could catch no fry. And after 
they had toiled long in vain, we take up their angle-rods, and 
dream of more success, though not possessed of half their skill. 
God has shown how little human wit and strength can do to 
compass reformation. Reason has explored the moral path, 

* " Christian World," p. 292, Whittingham's Edition. 



J USTIFICA TION B Y FAITH. 241 

planted it with roses, and fenced it round with motives ; but all 
in vain.* 

Let us hear him again : " Men are rightly treated in the 
reading-desk, and called by their proper name of miserable 
sinners. But in the pulpit they are complimented on the 
dignity of their earthly, sensual, devilish natures, are flattered 
with a princely will and power to save themselves, and orna- 
mented with a lusty seam of merit. Justification by faith, the 
jewel of the Gospel covenant, the groundwork of the Reforma- 
tion, the glory of the British Church, is now derided as a poor 
old beggarly element, which may suit a negro or a convict, but 
will not save a lofty scribe nor a lewd gentleman. And the 
covenant of grace, though executed legally by Jesus, purchased 
by his life and death, written and sealed with his blood, is 
deemed of no value, till ratified by Moses. Paul declares no 
other foundation can we lay beside that which is laid, Christ 
Jesus. But men are growing wise above that which is written, 
and will have two foundations for their hopes. These are, 
fancied merit, added to the meritorious life and death of Christ. 
If an angel should visit our earth, and proclaim such a kind of 
gospel as is often hawked from the press and pulpit, though he 
preached morality with most seraphic power, and till his wings 
dropped off, he would never turn one soul to God, nor produce 
a single grain of true morality, arising from the love of God, and 
aiming only at his glory." t 

Let us hear him again : " Once I went to Jesus as a cox- 
comb, and gave myself fine airs, fancying, if He were some- 
thing, so was I \ if He had merit, so had I. I used him as a 
healthy man will use a walking-staff — lean an ounce upon it, 
and vapour with it in the air. But now He is my whole crutch ; 
no foot can stir a step without him. He is my all, as he ought 
to be if he will become my Saviour, and bids me cast all my 
care on him. My heart can have no rest unless it leans upon 

* "Christian World," p. 335. t " Christian World," p. 341. 

Ciysj 16 



242 EXTRACTS FROM HIS LETTERS. 

him wholly; and then it feels his peace. But I am apt to leave 
my resting-place ; and when I ramble from it, my breast will 
quickly brew up mischief. Some evil temper now begins to 
boil, or some care would fain perplex me, or some idle wants 
to please me, or some deadness or lightness creeps upon my 
spirit, and communion with my Saviour is withdrawn. When 
these thorns stick in my flesh, I do not try, as heretofore, to 
pick them out with my own needle ; but I carry all my com- 
plaints to Jesus, casting every care on him. His office is to 
save, and mine to look to him for help. If evil tempers arise, 
I go to him as some demoniac. If deadness creeps upon me, 
I go as a paralytic. If dissipation comes, I go as a lunatic. If 
darkness clouds my face, I go as a Bartimeus. And when I 
pray, I always go as a leper, crying, as Isaiah did, Unclean, 
unclean." * 

Let us hear what he says in a letter to John Newton, dated 
October 18, 1771 : "The foulest stain and highest absurdity in 
our nature is pride. And yet this base hedgehog so rolls him- 
self up in his bristly coat, we can seldom get a sight of his 
claws. It is the root of unbelief. Men cannot submit to the 
righteousness of Christ, and pride cleaves to them like a pitched 
shirt to the skin, or like leprosy to the wall. No sharp culture 
of ploughing and harrowing will clear the ground of it. The 
foul weed will be sure to spring up again with the next kindly 
rain. This diabolical sin has brought more scourges on my 
back than anything else ; and it is of so insinuating a nature, 
that I know not how to part with it. I hate it, and love it ; I 
quarrel with it, and embrace it; I dread it, and yet suffer it to 
lie in my bosom. It pleads a right, through the fall, to be a 
tenant for life; and has such a wonderful appetite, that it can 
feed kindly both on grace and garbage — will be as warm and 
snug in a cloister as a palace, and be as much delighted with a 
fine prayer as a foul oath." 

* " Christian World," p. 248. 



al 1 



LETTER TO SAMUEL WILKES. 243 

Let us hear what he says in a letter to Samuel Wilkes, dated 
August 16, 1774: "Sitting closely on the beach is very sweet 
after a stormy voyage; but I fancy you will find it more difficult 
to walk closely with Jesus in a calm than a storm, in easy 
circumstances than in straits. A Christian never falls asleep in 
the fire or in the water, but grows drowsy in the sunshine. We 
love to nestle, but cannot make a nest in a hard bed. God has 
given you good abilities. This, of course, will make you re- 
spected by men of business, and tempt you at times to admire 
yourself, and thus bring a smart rod upon your back. Sharp 
genius, like a sharp knife, often makes a wrong gash, and cuts 
a finger instead of food. We scarcely know how to turn our 
backs on admiration, though it comes from the vain world ; yet 
a kick from the world does believers less harm than a kiss. I 
apprehend a main part of your trial will lie here. W T hen you 
are tempted to think gaudily of yourself, and spread your 
feathers like a peacock, remember that fine parts in themselves 
are like the fine wings of a butterfly, which garnish out the 
moth and grub beneath. Remember, too, that a fiend has 
sharper parts than the sharpest of us, and that one grain of 
godly grace is of more worth than a hundred thousand heads- 
ful of Attic wit, or of philosophic, theologic, or commercial 
science." 

Let us hear what he writes to Lady Huntingdon about the 
marriage of ministers, on March 23, 1770: "Before I parted 
with honest G., I cautioned him much against petticoat snares. 
! He has burnt his wings already. Sure he will not imitate a 
foolish gnat, and hover again about the candle % If he should 
fall into a sleeping-lap, like Samson, he will soon need a flannel 
night-cap, and a rusty chain to fix him down, like a chained 
Bible to the reading-desk. No trap so mischievous to the field- 
preacher as wedlock; and it is laid for him at every hedge 
corner. Matrimony has quite maimed poor Charles [Wesley], 
and might have spoiled John [Wesley] and George [Whitefield], 



244 EXTRACTS FROM HIS LETTERS. 

if a wise Master had not graciously sent them a brace of ferrets. 
Dear George has now got his liberty again ; and he will escape 
well if he is not caught by another tenter-hook. Eight or nine 
years ago, having been grievously tormented with house-keep- 
ing, I truly had thought of looking out for a Jezebel myself. 
But it seamed highly needful to ask advice of the Lord. 
So, kneeling down on my knees before a table, with a Bible 
between my hands, I besought the Lord to give me a direc- 
tion." I may add that Jeremiah xvi. 2 settled the question, to 
Berridge's satisfaction, in the negative. 

In another letter he says : " A man may be constitutionally 
meek as the lamb, constitutionally kind as the spaniel, consti- 
tutionally cheerful as the lark, and constitutionally modest as 
the owl; but these things are not sanctincation. No sweet, 
humble, heavenly tempers, no sanctifying graces, are found but 
from the cross." 

In another letter he says : " A Smithfield fire would unite the 
sheep of Christ, and frighten the goats away ; but when the 
world ceases to persecute the flocks, they begin to fight eacli 
other. Indeed, the worst part of the sheep is in his head, 
which is not half so good as a calf's head ; and with this they 
are ever butting at each other." 

In another letter he says : " I told my brother Mr. Henry 
Venn he need not fear being hanged for sheep-stealing, while 
he only whistles the sheep into a better pasture, and meddles 
neither with the flock nor fleece. And I am sure he cannot 
sink much lower in credit; for he has lost his character right 
honestly by preaching law and gospel without mincing. The 
scoffing world makes no other distinction between him and me, 
than between Satan and Beelzebub. We have both got tufted 
horns and cloven feet; only I am thought the more impudent 
devil of the two." 

I leave the subject of John Berridge's quaintness here. It 
would be easy to multiply quotations like those I have given ; 



PROMINENT FEA TURES IN HIS CHAR A CTER. 245 

but I have probably said enough to give my readers some idea 

of the strange workings of the good Vicar of Everton's mind. I 

do not pretend to defend his odd sayings. I fully admit that they 

were calculated to interfere with his usefulness. But, once for 

all, I must request my readers not to judge them too severely, 

and, above all, to beware of setting down the eccentric author 

of them as a ranting fool. Berridge, we may depend on it, was 

nothing of the kind. Quaint as his sayings were, a Christian 

1 reader will seldom fail to discern in them a deep vein of common 

sense, shrewdness, and sagacity. Odd and unrefined as his 

' illustrations often were, they were just the kind of thing that 

arrests and keeps up the attention of rural hearers. Let us 

' grant that he erred in an excess of quaintness, but let us not 

i forget that hundreds of preachers err in an excess of correct 

1 du/ness, and never do good to a single soul. 

I should be sorry to leave on my reader's mind the impres- 
'■ sion that quaintness was the leading characteristic of the good 
■ Vicar of Everton. There were other prominent features in his 
1 character which were quite as remarkable as his quaintness, but 
1 which his detractors have found it convenient to forget. There 
'1 were many grand and fine points about this old evangelist, 
which deserve to be had in remembrance, and which all who 
] love pure and undefiled religion will know how to appreciate. 
' I will briefly mention a few of them, and then draw my account 
of him to a conclusion. 

Berridge was a man of deep humility. That queen of all the 
graces, which adorned Whitefield and Grimshaw so remark- 
ably, was a prominent feature in his character. No man could 
be more sensible of his infirmities than he was, and no one 
could speak of himself more disparagingly than he did. He 
says, in 1773: "Ten years ago, I hoped to be something long 
before this time, and seemed in a promising way; but a nearer 
I view of the spiritual wickedness in my heart, and of the spiritual 
: demands of God's laws, has forced me daily to cry, 'O wretched 



246 HIS LOVE OF CHRIST. 

man that I am! God be merciful to me a sinner!' I am now 
sinking from a poor something into a vile nothing; and wish 
to be nothing, that Christ may be all. I am creeping down the 
ladder from self-complacence to self-abhorrence; and the more 
I abhor myself, the more I must hate sin, which is the cause of 
that abhorrence." — "As the heart is more washed, we grow 
more sensible of its remaining defilement; just as we are more 
displeased with a single spot on a new coat, than with a hundred 
stains on an old one. The more wicked men grow, the less 
ashamed they are of themselves ; and the more holy men grow, 
the more they learn to abhor themselves." 

For another thing, Berridge was a man who gloried in our 
Lord Jesus Christ, and in all his preaching, speaking, and 
writing, delighted to make much of Him. He says, in one of 
his letters: "Once I was sensible of my lameness, but did 
not know that Christ was to be my whole strength as w T ell as 
righteousness. I saw His blood could purge away the guilt of 
sin; but I thought I had some natural might against the power 
of sin. Accordingly, I laboured to cut away my own corrup- 
tions, and pray away my own will, but laboured in the fire. At 
length, God has shown me that John Berridge cannot drive the 
devil out of himself; but Jesus Christ, blessed be his name, 
must say to the Legion, 'Come out' I see that faith alone can 
purify the heart as well as purify the conscience, and that Christ 
is worthy to be my all in everything, in wisdom, righteousness, 
sanctification, and redemption." 

For another thing, Berridge was a man of singular kindness 
and self-denial. No man perhaps ever carried on Christ's work 
with more thoroughly disinterested views. Whether at home 
or abroad he was always giving, and never receiving, and went 
through all his immense labours gratuitously. Houses and 
barns were rented for preaching, lay-preachers maintained in 
all directions, and his own travelling expenses defrayed by him- 
self. Whenever he preached in a cottage, he invariably left 



HIS SELF-DENIAL. 247 

half-a-crown for the use of it; and, during his itinerancy, he 
actually spent ^500 in this way alone. Cases of distress and 
suffering always met with munificent help from him. His 
whole income, both private and professional, was annually 
spent in doing good, and even his family plate was sold to buy 
clothes for his itinerant preachers. As to his own habits at 
home, they were simple in the extreme. To one who came to 
supply his pulpit (the Hon. and Rev. W. Shirley), when absent 
from home, he wrote the following quaint intimation: "You 
must eat what is set before you, and be thankful. I get hot 
victuals but once a week for myself, namely, on Saturday; but, 
because you are an Honourable man, I have ordered two hot 
joints to be got each week for you. Use what I have just as 
your own. I make no feasts, but save all I can, to give all I 
can. I have never yet been worth a groat at the year's end, 
nor desire it." As to his fare abroad, when itinerating in the 
eastern counties, he says in another letter : " I fear my weekly 
circuit would not suit a London or Bath divine. Long rides, 
and miry roads, in sharp weather ! Cold houses to sit in, with 
very moderate fuel, and three or four children roaring or rock- 
ing about you ! Coarse food, and meagre liquor ! Lumpy beds 
to lie on and too short for the feet, with stiff blankets like 
boards for a covering ! Rise at five in the morning to preach ; at 
seven, breakfast on poor tea; at eight, mount a horse with boots 
: never cleaned, and then ride home praising God for all mercies!" 
For another thing, Berridge was a man of uncommon shrewd- 
ness, good sense, and sagacity. Never was there a more complete 
mistake than to suppose that he, any more than Romaine, was 
a mere ranting, weak-headed fanatic. A careful perusal of his 
remains will show them to be replete with deep, thoughtful, and 
far-sighted remarks. His criticism of Cowper's Poems, \\\i 
letters about Lady Huntingdon's College at Trevecca, his well- 
balanced statements of some of the most disputed points in the 
Calvinistic controversy; and his sensible treatment of enthusiasts 



348 ADVICE TO A YOUNG MINISTER. 

under his ministry, are excellent evidences of this feature in his 
character. I know few wiser and more comprehensive letters 
of advice to a young minister about a sermon than one (not 
dated) which Whittingham has inserted at the end of his collec- 
tion. Among other things, he says: "When you open your 
commission, begin with laying open the innumerable corruptions 
of the hearts of your audience. Moses will lend you a knife, 
which may be often whetted at his grindstone. Lay open the 
universal sinfulness of men's natures, the darkness of the mind, 
the frowardness of the will, the fretfulness of the temper, and 
the earthliness and sensuality of the affections. Speak of the 
evil of sin in its nature, its rebellion against God as our Sove- 
reign, ingratitude to God as our Lawgiver, and contempt both 
of his authority and love. Declare the evil of sin in its effects, 
bringing all our sicknesses, pains, and snares — all the evils we 
feel, and all the evils we fear." — " Lay open the spirituality of 
the law and its extent, reaching to every thought, word, and 
action, and declaring every transgression, whether by omission 
or commission, deserving of death. Declare man's utter helpless- 
ness to change his nature, or make his peace." — "When your 
hearers are deeply affected with these things, which is often 
seen by 'the hanging down of their heads, then preach Christ. 
Lay open the Saviour's almighty power to soften the hard 
heart and give it repentance, to bring pardon to the broken 
heart, a spirit of prayer to the prayerless heart, holiness 
to the filthy heart, and faith 4 to the unbelieving heart. Let 
them know that all the treasures of grace are lodged in Jesus 
Christ for the use of the poor needy sinner, and that he is full 
of love as well as of power; turns no beggar from his gate, but 
receives all comers kindly; loves to bless them, and bestows 
all his blessings free. Here you must wave the gospel flag, 
and magnify the Saviour supremely. Speak it with a full 
mouth, that his blood can wash away the foulest sins, and his 
grace subdue the stoutest corruptions. Entreat the people to 



HIS COURAGE AND BOLDNESS. 249 

seek his grace, to seek it directly, to seek it diligently, to seek 
it constantly; and acquaint them that all who thus seek shall 
assuredly find the salvation of God." 

For another thing, Berridge was a man of extraordinary 
courage and boldness. He was one of those who could say with 
David: "I will speak of thy testimonies before kings, and not 
be ashamed." In doing his Master's business, and delivering 
his Master's message, he was never stopped for a moment by 
fear of personal danger or regard for the opinion of the world. 
Neither bishops, squires, nor parsons had any terrors for him. 
At an early period of his evangelical ministry he took his line, 
and from that line he never swerved. The occasion of his first 
resolving never to be afraid is strikingly described in the follow- 
ing anecdote, which I take from the " Churchman's Monthly 
Penny Magazine" for 1852: — 

" In one of the villages in which he was known as a preacher of the new 
doctrines, which were then beginning to excite a great sensation in different 
spots in England, he was exposed, when passing through it, to the hootings 
and revilings of the mob to an extent which frequently chafed his excitable 
spirit. This village was composed nearly exclusively of a long, straggling 
street, and, as is to be seen in many similar hamlets in England and else- 
where, was surrounded on one side by a narrow lane, which, jutting off at 
one end, joined it again, by a much wider circuit than that made by the 
street, at the other. On one day in which Berridge was about to pass 
through this village, his spirit quailed within him, in anticipation of the 
rough reception he would certainly meet with from the bigoted inhabitants. 
He felt as if he could not encounter it, and accordingly turned into the 
narrow lane of which we have spoken just at the moment when a pig-driver 
of Lis acquaintance entered the street with his noisy charge. It was their 
hap, each pursuing his own course, to meet again at the farther end of the 
village, when the pig-driver, who not only knew Berridge, but knew his 
principles, and knew the truth, looked up in his face with a most peculiar 
expression, and said : ' So you are ashamed orft. ' 

" The saying went to his heart. ' Yes,' he said, 'I have been ashamed 
ojt't; I resolve, in the strength of God, to be ashamed of it no more, but 
henceforth to press after it, firm unto the end.' A resolution which, under- 
taken by a resolute mind in the fear of God, was, perhaps, never more 
faithfully carried out in the future progress of a long and devoted life." 

Last, but not least, Berridge was a man of deep acquaintance 



250 HIS TENDER SYMPATHY. 

with Christian experience, and tender sympathy with the people 
of God. Those who fancy that he was a rough, vulgar, ranting 
out-door preacher, always full of jests and jokes and high spirits, 
and always dwelling on elementary truths, know very little of 
the good man's character. Let them read the following letters 
carefully, and mark how the itinerant evangelist of Everton 
could write to his friends. The first of the three was written 
to a friend on the occasion of his wife's death, and will be 
found in Whittingham's volume. The other two have come to 
me from private hands, and have never been printed before: — 

Everton, March 26, 177 1. 

"Dear Brother, — Mr. W informs me of the loss of your dear 

wife. You once knew she was mortal; but she has now put off mortality, 
and is become immortal. Can this grieve you ? Oh, that I was where she 

now is ! — 

' Safe landed on that peaceful shore, 
Where pilgrims meet to part no more.'- 

She was once a mourning sinner in the wilderness, but she is now a glorified 
saint in Zion; the Lord is become her everlasting light — the days of her 
mourning are ended. Does this trouble you ? — She was once afflicted with 
bodily pains and weakness, encompassed with cares, and harassed with a 
crowd of anxious, needless fears ; but she has now arrived at her Father's 
house, and Jesus has wiped away all tears from her eyes, and freed her in 
a moment from all pains, cares, fears, and wants. And shall this affect 
you? — You have not lost your wife; she has only left you for a few 
moments — left an earthly husband to visit a heavenly Father — and expects 
your arrival there soon, to join the hallelujah for redeeming love. Are you 
still weeping ? — Fie upon you, brother ! — weeping because your wife can 
weep no more ! weeping because she is happy, because she is joined to that 
assembly where all are kings and priests ! weeping because she is daily 
feasted with heavenly manna, and hourly drinking new wine in her Father's 
kingdom ! weeping because she is now where you would be, and long to be 
eternally ! weeping because she is singing, and singing sweet anthems to 
her God and your God ! — O shameful weeping ! Jesus has fetched your 
bride triumphantly home to his kingdom, to draw your soul more ardently 
thither, he has broken up a cistern to bring you nearer, and keep you closer 
to the fountain; has caused a moment's separation, to divorce your affec- 
tions from the creature; and has torn a wedding- string from your heart, to 
set it a-bleeding more freely, and panting more vehemently for Jesus. Here- 
after you will see how gracious the Lord has been, in calling a beloved wife 
home, in order to betroth the husband more effectually to himself. Re- 



SPE CIMEN OF HIS LE TTERS. 2 5 1 

member that the house of mourning becomes and befriends a sinner; that 
sorrow is a safe companion for a pilgrim, who walks much astray until his 
heart is well broken. May all your tears flow in a heavenly channel, and 
every sigh waft your soul to Jesus ! May the God of all consolation comfort 
you through life, and in death afford you a triumphant entrance into his 
kingdom ! So prays your friend and brother in the gospel of Christ, 

"J. Berridge." 

" Everton, Sept. 14, 1773. 

"Dear Sir, — I received your kind letter, and thank you for it. You 
want nothing but an opened eye to see the glory of Christ's redemption ; and 
he must give it, and will bestow it, when it is most for his glory and your 
advantage. Had you Daniel's holiness, Paul's zeal, John's love, Magda- 
len's repentance (and I wish you had them all), yet altogether they would 
give you no title to a pardon. You must at last receive it as a ruined sinner, 
even as the Cross-thief received it. 

" No graces or services of your own can give you a right to pardon ; you 
must come to Jesus for it, weary and heavy-laden ; and if you are afflicted for 
sin, and desirous of being delivered from its guilt and power, no past iniqui- 
ties in your life, nor present corruptions of your heart, will be a bar to par- 
doning mercy. If we are truly seeking salvation by Jesus, we shall be dis- 
posed, as we are really bound, to seek after holiness. 

" But remember, though holiness is the walk to heaven, Christ is the 
way to God ; and when you seek for pardon, you must go wholly out ol 
your walk, be it good or bad, and look only to Him who is the way. You 
must look to him as a miserable sinner, justly condemned by his law, a pro- 
per brand for hell, and look to be plucked from the fire by rich and sove- 
reign grace. You have just as much worthiness for a pardon as the Cross- 
thief had, which is none at all ; and in your best estate you will never have 
any more. A pardon was freely given to him upon asking for it freely, and 
given instantly because no room was left for delays ; and a pardon is as 
ready for you as for him, when you can ask for it as he did, with self-loath- 
ing and condemnation ; but the proper seasons of bestowing the pardon are 
kept in Jesus' own hand. He makes his mercy manifest to the heart when 
it will most glorify his grace and benefit the sinner. Only continue asking 
for mercy ; and seek it only through the blood of the cross, without any eye 
to your own worthiness, and that blood in due time will be sprinkled on 
your conscience, and you shall cry, Abba, Father. 

" Present my kindest love to my dear brother Mr. Romaine. The Lord 
continue his life and usefulness. Kind respects and Christian salutation to 
Mrs. Olney. Grace and peace be with both, and with your affectionate and 
obliged servant. J. Berridge." 

" Everton, Nov. 7, 1786. 
"Dear Sir, — I received your kind letter, along with your present. I 
thank you for the present, as being a token of your respect, and attended, I 



252 SPECIMEN OF HIS LETTERS. 

find, with your daily prayers for me, which I value more than human pre. 
sents. The Lord bless you, and lift up the light of his countenance upon 
you, and give you a sweet enjoyment of his peace. 

"I have hitherto found that Christian people who live in the dark, fearing 
and doubting, yet waiting on God, have usually a very happy death. They 
are kept humble, hungering and praying, and the Lord clears up their evi- 
dences at length in a last sickness, if not before, and they go off with halle- 
lujahs. 

"From what I know of you, and from the account you give of yourself, I 
have no doubt of the safety of your state : yet rest not here, but seek further. 
Two things should be carefully attended to by all upright people — one is the 
evidence of the Word, the other is the evidence or witness of the Spirit. 
The Word says : ' All that believe are justified from all things' (Acts xiii. 39). 
I ask, then, do you not place your whole dependence on Jesus Christ for 
salvation? Do you not heartily accept of Jesus Christ in all his offices, and 
are you not daily seeking to him to teach you and rule you, as well as to 
pardon you ? Then you are certainly a believer, and as such are justified in 
God's sight from all your sins, according to the plain declaration of God's 
Word. Let this encourage you to seek with confidence for the evidence of 
the Spirit, to proclaim that justification to your heart. The evidence of the 
Word is given to hold up the heart in a season of doubts and fears, and the 
evidence of the Spirit comes to scatter those fears. Remember also that 
salvation does not depend on the strength of faith, but the reality of it. In 
the gospels, Jesus often rebukes weak faith, but never rejects it. Weak faith 
brings but little comfort, yet is as much entitled to salvation as strong. 

" I have had much of my nervous fever this summer ; never once stirred 
out of my parish, and never further in it than to my church ! Through mercy 
I am somewhat better ; and when alone, with a Bible before me, am com- 
posed and comfortable, yet scarce able to bear visits, so weak are my spirits. 

. . . Give my love to Mr. G , and tell him from first to last he has been 

the friend of my heart. I send my kind respects to your partner. Grace 
and peace be with you both, and with your affectionate servant, 

"John Berridge." 

I close my account of the good old Vicar of Everton with 
one remark. The man who could write such letters as these is 
not one who ought to be lightly esteemed. John Berridge is a 
minister who has never been rightly valued on account of his 
one besetting infirmity. The one " dead fly in his ointment " 
has made the Church ignore his many gifts and graces. Yet 
he was a man of whom the world was not worthy. Good 
judges of men, such as John Thornton, Lady .Huntingdon, 
Wesley, Venn, Fletcher, John Newton, Rowland Hill, Charles 



A GREAT AND GOOD MAN. 253 

Simeon, Jones of Creaton, were all agreed about him, and all 
held him in honour. Let us reform our judgment of the good 
man, and cast our prejudices aside. Whatever some may 
please to say, we may rest assured that there were few greater, 
better, holier, and more useful ministers a hundred years ago 
than old John Berridge. 



ffrnra Wnxn anb [jis lltintstrg. 




CHAPTER I. 

Born at Barnes, Surrey, 1724 — His Ancestors — Curious Anecdotes of his Boyhood and 
Youth — Enters St. John's, Cambridge, 1742 — Fellow of Queen's, 1749 — Curate of Webt 
Horsley, 1750 — Curate of Clapham, 1754 — Change in his Religious Views — Becomes 
acquainted with Whitefield and Lady Huntingdon— Married, 1757— Vicar of Hudders- 
field, 1759. 

HE seventh spiritual hero of the last century to whom 
I wish to direct the attention of my readers, is one 
better known than several of his contemporaries. 
The man I mean is Henry Venn, for some time Vicar of Hud- 
dersfield, in Yorkshire, and afterwards Vicar of Yelling, in 
Huntingdonshire. „ He is the only English minister of the 
eighteenth century whom I consider worthy to be ranked with 
the six whose memoirs I have already put together — viz., 
Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw, Romaine, Rowlands, and Ber- 
ridge. These seven men appear to me, in some respects, to 
stand alone in the religious history of England a hundred years 
ago. Beside them, no doubt, there were many others of 
eminent grace and gifts. But none attained to the degree of 
the first seven. 

One reason why Henry Venn is better known than many 
of his day, is the excellence of the only biography of him. 
Few men certainly have been so fortunate in their bio- 
graphers as the evangelical Vicar of Huddersfield. In the 



THE FAMILY-NAME OF VENN. 255 

whole range of Christian memoirs, I know few volumes so truly 
valuable as the single volume of " Henry Venn's Life and 
Letters." I never take it down from my shelves without think- 
ing of the words which our great poet puts in the mouth of 
Queen Katherine : — 

" After my death I wish no other herald, 
No other speaker of my living actions, 
To keep mine honour from corruption, 

But such an honest chronicler as ." 

Henry VIII., Act iv. sc. 2. 

In fact, almost the only fault I find with the book is one which 
is most rare in a biography — it is too short ! 

Another reason why Henry Venn's name is so well known to 
English evangelical Christians, is the happy circumstance that 
he left behind him children who followed him " even as he fol- 
lowed Christ." His son, and his son's sons, have all been 
thoroughly like-minded with him. For more than a century 
there has never been wanting a minister of his name within the 
pale of the Church of England, to preach the same doctrine 
which he preached in the pulpit of Huddersfleld. The name 
of " Venn " has consequently never ceased to be before the 
public. When Whitefield and Wesley and Berridge were laid 
in their graves, they left no sons " to keep their name in 
remembrance," however numerous their spiritual children may 
have been. But the family-name of Venn has been so much in 
men's mouths for three generations, that there are few English 
Christians who are not acquainted with it. 

While, however, I fully admit that Henry Venn's name is 
well known in this country, I cannot help thinking that there is 
much confusion in men's minds as to the r/eriod of his ministry, 
and the time when he died. Some, I know, are in the habit of 
speaking of him as a contemporary of Scott, and Cecil, and 
Simeon. Even a writer like Sir James Stephen, in an article 
contributed to the Edinburgh Review, speaks of him as the 



256 BIR TH OF HENR Y VENN. 

" last of four evangelical fathers," of whom Scott, Newton, and 
Milner were the first three ! All these ideas about Venn are 
totally inaccurate. The authors of them, I suspect, confound 
Henry Venn with his son John Venn of Clapham. Henry 
Venn belonged to an earlier generation, and was well known 
and popular long before Newton, or Scott, or Cecil, or Simeon, 
or Milner, were ever heard of. To class him with these good 
men is an entire mistake. His true place is with Whitefield, 
and Wesley, and Grimshaw, and Rowlands, and Romaine, and 
Berridge. These were the men by whose side he laboured. 
These were the men with whom he must be ranked. To clear 
up Henry Venn's true history, and to convey some correct 
information about the main facts of his life and ministry, is the 
object that I set before me in the present memoir. Once for 
all, I wish it to be understood that the men I undertake to 
write about in this work are men of the last century. The men 
of the present century are men that I purposely leave alone. 

Henry Venn was born at Barnes, in Surrey, on the 2nd of 
March 1724 — within twenty-one years of the birth of John 
Wesley. He was the descendant of a long line of clergymen, 
reaching downwards in unbroken succession from the time of 
the Reformation. William Venn died vicar of Otterton, Devon- 
shire, in 162 1. Richard Venn, his son, succeeded him at 
Otterton ; and after suffering greatly for his steadfast adherence 
to the Church of England in the Commonwealth times, died 
quietly in possession of his living. After him, his son, Dennis 
Venn, died vicar of Holberton, in Devonshire, in 1691, And 
finally his son, Richard Venn, rector of St. Antholin's, in the 
City of London, was the father of the subject of this memoir. 
These facts are full of interest. At the present day the name of 
Venn has appeared for seven generations in the clergy list of 
the Church of England ! 

Henry Venn's father is said to have been " an exemplary and 
learned minister, very zealous for the interests of the Church of 



HIS EARLY YEARS. 257 

I England, and remarkable for great liberality towards the poor, 
5 and especially towards distressed clergymen. " Little is known 
\ about him, except the fact that he was the son of a very strong- 
; ( minded mother, who said that " Richard should not go to 
n school till he had learned to say ' No.'" He was once brought 
,i into much public notice, and incurred obloquy, on account of 
1 the opposition which he made, in conjunction with Bishop Gib- 
,1 son, to the appointment of Dr. Rundle to the Bishopric of 
I Gloucester. The grounds of his objection were certain expres- 
, sions which he had heard Dr. Rundle use, of a deistical ten- 
1 dency ; and the result of his opposition was, that Dr. Rundle 
t was actually kept out of the see of Gloucester, and was obliged 
: to content himself with the Irish bishopric of Deny.* When 
1 we remember what times they were when these things happened, 
( and what kind of a man Dr. Rundle's patron, Sir Robert 
i Walpole, was, it is impossible not to admire the courage and 
conscientiousness which Richard Venn displayed in the affair. 
I He died at the early age of forty-eight, when his son Henry 
1 was only fifteen years old. 

The facts recorded about Henry Venn, as a boy, are few, but 
1 interesting. They are enough to show that from his earliest 
- childhood he was a " thorough " and decided character, and 
J one who never did anything by halves. In fact, Dr. Gloucester 
: Ridley was so struck with his energy of character when young, 
1 that he said, " This boy will go up Holborn, and either stop at 
1 Ely Place (then the London palace of the Bishop of Ely), or go 
I on to Tyburn !" (the place where criminals were hanged.) The 
i following three anecdotes will show what kind of a boy he was. 
, I give them in his son's own words : — 

1 " While he was yet a child, Sir Robert Walpole attempted to 
1 introduce more extensively the system of Excise. A violent 



* It is only fair and just to the character of one long dead to say, that living descend- 
ants or connections of Dr. Rundle deny the correctness of the statement here made about 
J his opinions. I can only say that my authority is Mr. Venn's biography. 

(19C) 17 



258 ANECDOTES OF HENRY VENN. 

opposition was excited, and the popular feeling ran strongly 
against the measure. Young Henry Venn caught the alarm, 
and could not sleep in his bed lest the Excise Bill should pass ; 
and on the day when it was to be submitted to Parliament, his 
boyish zeal made him leave his father's house early, and wander 
through the streets, crying 'No Excise !' till the evening, when 
he returned home exhausted with fatigue, and with his voice 
totally lost by his patriotic exertions." 

"A gentleman, who was reported to be an Arian, called one 
day upon his father. Young Henry Venn, then a mere child, 
came into the room, and with a grave countenance earnestly 
surveyed him. The gentleman, observing the notice which the 
child took of him, began to show him some civil attentions, but 
found all his friendly overtures sternly rejected. At length, 
upon his earnestly soliciting him to come to him, the boy indig- 
nantly replied, ' I will not come near you ; for you are an Arian.'" 

"As he adopted with all his heart the opinions which he 
imbibed, he early entertained a most vehement dislike of all 
Dissenters. It happened that a Dissenting minister's son, two 
or three years older than himself, lived in the same street in 
London with his father • and young Henry Venn, in his zeal 
for the Church, made no scruple to attack and fight the unfor- 
tunate Nonconformist whenever he met him. It was a curious 
circumstance, that, many years after, he became acquainted 
with this very individual, who was then a Dissenting minister. 
He frankly confessed that young Venn had been the terror of 
his youthful days, and acknowledged that he never dared leave 
his father's door till he had carefully looked on every side to see 
that this young champion of the Church was not in the street." 

Henry Venn's education began at the age of twelve, in a 
school at Mortlake, near Barnes. From this school he was 
removed to one kept by a Mr. Croft, at Fulham, but only 
stayed there a few months. He left at his own request under 
very singular circumstances. He complained to his mother, as 



ENTERS ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE. 259 



very few boys ever do, " that his master was too indulgent, and 
>> [ the discipline was not sufficiently strict." From Fulham he 
went to a school at Bristol, kept by Mr. Catcott, author of a 
1 work on the Deluge, and an excellent scholar, though a severe 
master. From thence he removed to a school kept by Dr. Pit- 
man at Markgate Street, in Hertfordshire, and there finished 
his early education. 

In June 1742, at the age of seventeen, Henry Venn entered 

5 St. John's College, Cambridge. He only continued a member 

of that house three months, as he removed to Jesus College in 

\ September, on obtaining a scholarship there, and remained on 

3 the books of Jesus for seven years. In the year 1745, he took 

1 the degree of B.A. In 1747, he was appointed by Dr. Battie, 

i 1 who had been a ward of his father's, to one of the university 

1 scholarships which he had just founded ; and in June the same 

year he was ordained deacon by Bishop Gibson, without a title, 

5 from the respect which the bishop bore to his father's memory. 

In 1749, he became M.A., and was elected Fellow of Queen's 

College. This was the last of the many steps and changes in 

his educational career. At this date his ministerial life begins; 

and although he held his fellowship until his marriage, in 1757, 

from this time he had little more close connection with Cara- 

: bridge. 

Henry Venn's ministerial life began in 1749, when he was 
twenty-five years old.* He first served the curacy of Barton, 
near Cambridge, and afterwards officiated for various friends, 
: at Wadenhoe in Northamptonshire, and Little Hedingham in 
I Essex, and other places of which I cannot find out the names. 
In 1750 he ceased to reside at Cambridge, and became curate 
of Mr. Langley, rector of St. Matthew, Friday Street, London, 
' and West Horsley, near Guildford. Venn's duty was to serve 

* By a comparison of dates it would appear that Henry Venn became a Fellow, was or- 
dained, and took a curacy near Cambridge in the very same year that the famous John 
I Berridge became curate of Stapleford, near Cambridge. But I can find no proof that 
ihey were friends at this time. 



260 ANECDOTE OF A CRICKET-MATCH. 

the church in London during part of the summer, and to reside 
the remainder of the year at Horsley. In this position he re- 
mained continuously for four years, until he became curate oi 
Clapham in 1754. 

I can find no evidence that Venn had any distinct theologi- 
cal views for some little time after he was ordained. In fact, 
he appears, like too many, to have taken on him the holy office 
of a minister without any adequate conception of its duties and 
responsibilities. It is clear that he was moral and conscien- 
tious, and had a high idea of the deportment suited to the 
clerical life. But it is equally clear that he knew nothing 
whatever of evangelical religion ; and in aftertime he regarded 
his college days as " days of vanity and ignorance." 

One thing, however, is very plain in Venn's early history — he 
was scrupulously honest and conscientious in acting up faith- 
fully to anything which he was convinced was right. Indeed, 
he used often to say " that he owed the salvation of his soul to 
the resolute self-denial which he exercised, in following the 
dictates of conscience in a point which seemed itself of only 
small importance." 

" The case," says his son, " was this : He was extremely fond 
of cricket, and was reckoned one of the best players in the 
university. In the week before he was ordained he played in a 
match between Surrey and All England, which excited great 
interest, and was attended by a very numerous body of specta- 
tors. When the game terminated in favour of the side on which 
he was playing, he threw down his bat, saying, ' Whoever wants 
a bat which has done me good service may take that, as I have 
no further occasion for it.' His friends inquiring the reason, he 
replied, ' Because I am to be ordained on Sunday ; and I will 
never have it said of me, " Well struck, parson." ' To this 
resolution, notwithstanding the remonstrances of friends, he 
strictly adhered ; and, though his health suffered by a sudden 
transition from a course of most violent exercise to a life of 



FIRST RELIGIO US IMPRESSIONS. 2 6 1 

■ comparative inactivity, he never could be persuaded to play any 
more. From being faithful in a little, more grace was imparted 

I lo him." 

" His first considerable religious impressions/' adds his son, 
" arose from an expression in the form of prayer, which he had 
been accustomed to use daily, but, like most persons, without 
paying much attention to it — ' That I may live to the glory of 
thy name/ The thought powerfully struck his mind, 'What is 

■ it to live to the glory of God 1 Do I live as I pray 1 What 
course of life ought I to pursue to glorify God]' After much 
reflection, he came to the conclusion that to live to God's glory 

I required that he should live a life of piety and religion in a 
degree in which he had not yet lived ; and that he ought to be 
more strict in prayer, more diligent in reading the Scriptures and 
pious books, and more generally holy in his conduct. And, 

I- seeing the reasonableness of such a course of life, he showed his 
honesty and uprightness by immediately and steadily pursuing 
it. He set apart stated seasons for meditation and prayer, and 
kept a strict account of the manner in which he spent his time 
and regulated his conduct. I have heard him say that, at this 
period, he used to walk almost every evening in the cloisters of 
Trinity College while the great bell of St. Mary's was tolling at 
nine o'clock, and amidst the solemn tones of the bells, and in 
the stillness and darkness of the night, he would indulge in 
impressive reflections on death and judgment, heaven and 

I hell."* 

" In this frame of mind," his son continues, " Law's ' Serious 
Call to a Devout and Holy Life ' was particularly useful to him. 

'He read it repeatedly, with peculiar interest, and immediately 
began, with great sincerity, to frame his life according to the 
Christian model there delineated. He kept a diary of the state 



* The close resemblance between Henry Venn's experience at Cambridge, and George 
Whitefield's at Oxford, cannot f *il to strike any one who reads attentively the biographies 
jf the two men. 



262 ZEAL WITHOUT KNOWLEDGE. 

of his mind — a practice from which he derived great benefit, 
though not in the way he expected, for it chiefly made him 
better acquainted with his own deficiencies. He also allotted 
the hours of the day, as far as was consistent with the duties of 
his station, to particular acts of meditation and devotion. He 
kept frequent fasts ; and was accustomed often to take solitary 
walks, in which his soul was engaged in prayer and communion 
with God. I have heard him mention, that in these retired walks 
in the meadow behind Jesus College he had such a view of the 
goodness, mercy, and glory of God, as elevated his soul above 
the world, and made him aspire toward God as his supreme 
good." 

Such was the religious condition of Henry Venn's mind when 
he first began the active work of the Christian ministry. 
Earnest, zealous, moral, conscientious, and scrupulously deter- 
mined to do his duty, he put his hand to the plough and went 
forward. At Barton he distributed religious tracts and con- 
versed with the poor in such an affectionate manner, that some 
remembered him after an interval of thirty years. At Horsley 
he instructed many of the poor on the week-days at his own 
home. His family prayers were attended by thirty or forty poor 
neighbours, and the number of communicants increased from 
twelve to sixty. In fact, the neighbouring clergy began to regard 
him as an enthusiast and a Methodist. But his zeal, unhappily, 
was so far entirely without knowledge. He knew nothing what- 
ever of the real gospel of Christ, and, of course, could tell his 
hearers nothing about it. The consequence was, that for nearly 
four years of his ministerial life his labours were in vain. 

Henry Venn's four years at Horsley, however, were by no 
means thrown away. If he did little good to others, he cer- 
tainly learned lessons there of lasting benefit to his soul. The 
solitude and seclusion of his position gave him abundant time 
for reading, meditation, and prayer ; and in the honest use of 
such means as he had, God was graciously pleased to show him 



CHANGE IN HIS REIIGIOUS VIEWS. 263 

more light, and to lead him onward towards the full knowledge 
of the gospel. Little by little he began to find out that " Law's" 
divinity was very defective, and that his favourite author did not 
give sufficient honour to Christ. Little by little he began to 
discover that he was, in reality, trying to "workout a righteous- 
ness" of his own, while, in truth, he had nothing to boast of; 
and that, with all his straining after perfection, he was nothing 
better than a poor weak sinner. Little by little he began to 
see that true Christianity was a scheme providing for man's 
wants as a ruined, fallen, and corrupt creature ; and that the 
root of all vital religion is faith in the blood and righteousness 
and mediation and mercy of a Divine Saviour — Christ the 
Lord. The scales began to fall from his eyes. The tone oi 
his preaching began sensibly to alter. And though, when he 
left Horsley for Clapham he had not even yet attained full 
. light, it is perfectly evident that he went out of the parish in a 
totally different state of mind from that with which he entered. 
It was true that even now he "saw men as trees, walking ;' ; 
but it is no less true that he could have said, " I was blind, and 
now I see." 

I pity the man who can read the story of Henry Venn's reli 
. gious experience without deep interest. The steps by which 
I God leads his children on from one degree of light to anothei 
. are all full of instruction. Seldom does He seem to bring his 
people into the full enjoyment of spiritual knowledge all at 
once. We must not, therefore, " despise the day of small 
things." We should rather respect those who fight their way 
out of darkness and grope after truth. What has been won by 
. hard fighting is often that which wears the longest. Theological 
. principles taken up second-hand have often no root, and en 
dure but for a little season. Striking and curious is the simi- 
larity in the experience of Whitefield, Berridge, and Venn. 
, They all had to fight hard for spiritual light ; and having found 
it, they held it fast, and never let it go. 



2^4 CURA TE OF CLAPHAM. 

The five years during which Henry Venn was curate of Clap- 
ham completely settled his theological creed, and formed a 
turning-point in his religious history. His work there was very 
heavy, as he held two lectureships in London, beside his curacy. 
His regular duty on Sunday consisted of a full service at Clap- 
ham in the morning ; a sermon in the afternoon at St. Alban's, 
Wood Street ; and another in the evening at Swithin's, London 
Stone. On Tuesday morning, he preached again at Swithin's ; 
on Wednesday morning, at seven o'clock, at his father's old 
church, St. Antholin's ; and on Thursday evening at Clapham. 
To preach six sermons every week was undoubtedly a heavy 
demand on a curate of only four years' standing ! Yet it is not 
unlikely that the very necessity for exertion which his position 
entailed on him was the means of calling forth latent power. 
Men never know how much they can do, until they are put 
under the screw, and obliged to exert themselves. At any rate 
Venn was compelled to learn how to preach from notes, from 
sheer inability to write six sermons a-week, and thus attained a 
facility in extemporaneous speaking which he afterwards found 
most useful. 

In a spiritual point of view, Venn's character was greatly 
influenced, during his five years' residence at Clapham, by three 
circumstances. The first of these was a severe illness of eight 
months' duration, which laid him aside from work in 1756, and 
gave him time for reflection and self-examination. The second 
was his marriage, in 1757, to the daughter of Dr. Bishop, 
minister of the Tower Church, Ipswich ; a lady who, from her 
piety and good sense, seems to have been admirably qualified 
to be a clergyman's wife. The third, and probably the most 
important circumstance of his position, was the friendship that 
he formed with several eminent Christians, who were of great 
use to his soul. At Horsley he seems to have had no help 
from any one, and whatever he learned there he did not learn 
from man. At Clapham, on the contrary, he at once became 



LE TTER OF LADY HUN TIN GD ON. 265 

intimate with the well-known layman John Thornton and Dr. 
Haweis, and afterwards with George Whitefield and Lady Hunt- 
ingdon. 

To Lady Huntingdon, Henry Venn seems to have been under 
peculiar obligations for advice and counsel. The following 
extract from a letter which she addressed to him about the 
defects in his first preaching at Clapham, is an interesting 
example of her faithfulness, and throws much light on the 
precise state of her correspondent's mind at this period. She 
says : " O my friend, we can make no atonement to a violated 
law ; we have no inward holiness of our own ; the Lord Jesus 
Christ is ' the Lord our righteousness/ Cling not to such 
beggarly elements, such filthy rags, mere cobwebs of Pharisaical 
pride ; but look to him who hath wrought out a perfect right- 
eousness for his people. You find it a hard task to come 
naked and miserable to Christ ; to come divested of every 
recommendation but that of abject wretchedness and misery, 
and receive from the outstretched hand of our Immanuel the 
riches of redeeming grace. But if you come at all you must 
come thus ; and, like the dying thief, the cry of your heart must 
be, ' Lord, remember me.' There must be no conditions ; 
Christ and Christ alone must be the only mediator between 
God and sinful men ; no miserable performance can be placed 
between the sinner and the Saviour. And now, my dear friend, 
no longer let false doctrine disgrace your pulpit. Preach Christ 
crucified as the only foundation of the sinner's hope. Preach 
him as the Author and Finisher as well as the sole Object of 
faith, that faith which is the gift of God. Exhort Christless sin- 
ners to fly to the City of Refuge , to look to Him who is 
exalted as Prince and Saviour, to give repentance and the re- 
mission of sins. Go on, then, and may your bow abide in 
strength. Be bold, be firm, be decided. Let Christ be the 
Alpha and Omega of all you advance in your addresses to your 
fellow-men. Leave the consequences to your Divine Master. 



266 TESTIMONY OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

May his gracious benediction rest upon your labours ! and may 
you be blessed to the conversion of very many, who shall be 
your joy and crown of rejoicing in the great day when the Lord 
shall appear." — The date of this faithful letter is not given. I 
am inclined, however, to conjecture that it was written between 
the time of Venn's illness in 1756 and his marriage in 1757. 
At any rate, it is a remarkable fact, recorded by his son, that 
he used to observe that after 1756 he was no longer able 
to preach the sermons which he had previously composed. 
Lady Huntingdon's faithful letter was probably not written in 
vain. 

Whatever defects there may have been in Venn's doctrinal 
views during the first few years of his Clapham ministry, they ap- 
pear to have completely vanished after his restoration to health 
in 1757. He was soon recognized as a worthy fellow-labourer 
with that noble little company of evangelists which, under the 
leading of Whitefield and Wesley, was beginning to shake the 
land ; and from his gifts as a preacher took no mean position 
among them. Whitefield seems especially to have delighted 
in him. In a letter written some time in 1757, he says to Lady 
Huntingdon : " The worthy Venn is valiant for the truth, a son 
of thunder. He labours abundantly, and his ministry has been 
owned of the Lord to the conversion of sinners. Thanks be to 
God for such an instrument to strengthen our hands ! I know 
the intelligence will rejoice your ladyship. Your exertions in 
bringing him to a clearer knowledge of the everlasting gospel 
have indeed been blessed. He owes your ladyship much, 
under God, and I believe his whole soul is gratitude to the 
Divine Author of mercies, and to you the honoured instrument 
in leading him to the fountain of truth." Testimony like this 
is unexceptionable. George Whitefield was one of the last 
men on earth to be satisfied with any preaching which was not 
the full gospel. We cannot for a moment doubt that during 
the last two years of Venn's curacy at Clapham, he at length 



VICAR OF HUDDERSFIELD. 267 

walked in the full light ot Christ's truth, and " declared all the 
counsel of God." 

In the year 1759, Henry Venn was appointed vicar of Hud- 
dersfield, in Yorkshire, by Sir John Ramsden, at the solicitation 
of Lord Dartmouth. He accepted the appointment from the 
purest of all motives, a desire to do good to souls. The town 
itself presented no great attractions. In point of income he 
was positively a loser by the move from Clapham. But he felt 
deeply that the offer opened "a great and effectual door" or 
usefulness, and he did not dare to turn away from it. He 
seems also to have had a strong impression that he had not 
been successful at Clapham, and that this was an indication 
that he ought not to refuse a change. His wife was averse to 
his moving; and her opinion no doubt placed him in much 
perplexity. But the result showed beyond doubt that he de- 
cided rightly. In leaving Clapham for Yorkshire, he was in 
God's way. 

Henry Venn became vicar of Huddersfleld at the age of 
thirty-five, and continued there only twelve years. He went 
there a poor man, without rank or influence, and with nothing 
but God's truth on his side. He found the place a huge, dark, 
ignorant, immoral, irreligious, manufacturing town. He left it 
shaken to the centre by the lever of the gospel, and leavened 
with the influence of many faithful servants of Jesus Christ, 
whom he had been the means of turning from darkness to light. 
Few modern ministers appear to have had so powerful an in- 
fluence on a town population as Henry Venn had on Hudders- 
fleld. The nearest approach to it seems to have been the work 
of Robert M'Cheyne at Dundee. 

The story of Henry Venn's life from the time of his settle- 
ment at Huddersfleld is a subject which I must reserve for 
another chapter. I do not feel that I could possibly do justice 
to it now. How he lived, and worked, and preached, and 
prospered in his great manufacturing parish — how he turned 



268 VENN'S MINIS TR Y AT HUDDERSFIELD. 

the world upside down throughout the district around, and be- 
came a centre of light and life to hundreds — how his health 
finally gave way under the abundance of his labours, and 
obliged him to leave Huddersfield — how he spent the last twenty 
years of his life in the comparative retirement of a little rural 
parish in Huntingdonshire, — all these are matters which I can- 
not enter into now. I hope to tell my readers something about 
them in another chapter. 



CHAPTER II. 

Mode of Working at Huddersfield — Effect of his Ministry — Fruits found in 1824 — Extra- 
parochial Labours — Friendly relation with Whitefield — Health Fails — Wife Dies — 
Leaves Huddersfield for Yelling, 177 1 — Description of Yelling — Second Marriage — 
Description of Life at Yelling — Dies, 1797. 

Henry Venn was Vicar of Huddersfield from 1759 to 177 1. 
These twelve years, we need not doubt, were the period of his 
greatest public usefulness. In the full vigour of his bodily and 
mental faculties, with his mind thoroughly made up about all 
the leading doctrines of the gospel, with his heart thoroughly 
set on his Master's business, he entered his new sphere with 
peculiar power and acceptance, and soon " made full proof of 
his ministry." His time there was certainly short, if measured 
by years alone, in consequence of his failing health; but it 
measured by action and usefulness, like Edward the Sixth's 
reign, it was very long indeed. 

For more than one reason a peculiar interest attaches to 
Venn's ministry at Huddersfield. For one thing, he was the 
only one of the seven spiritual heroes of the last century who 
ever became incumbent of a large town population. Wesley 
and Whitefield were itinerant evangelists, whose parish was the 
world. Romaine was the rector of a little confined district in 
the City. Rowlands lived and died among Welsh mountains, 
Grimshaw on Yorkshire moors, and Berridge on Bedfordshire 



HIS MODE OF WORKING. 269 

plains. Venn was the only man among the seven who could 
number his lawful parishioners by thousands. — For another 
thing, he was the first evangelical clergyman in the Church of 
England who proved that the manufacturing masses of our 
fellow-countrymen can be thoroughly reached by the gospel. 
He proved to a demonstration that the working-classes in our 
great northern towns are to be got at just like other men, if 
they are approached in the proper way. He proved that the 
preaching of the cross suits the wants of all Adam's children, 
and that it can " turn the world upside down " among looms 
and coal-mines, just as thoroughly as it can in watering-places, 
country parishes, or metropolitan chapels-of-ease. We all know 
this now. Nobody would dream of denying it. But we must 
remember it was not so well known a hundred years ago. Let 
honour be given where honour is due. The first clergyman in 
England who fairly proved the power of evangelical aggression 
on a manufacturing parish, was Henry Venn. 

A clergyman's work in a large town district in the last cen- 
tury was very unlike what it is in these times. A vast quantity 
of religious machinery, with which every one is familiar now, in 
those days did not exist. City missions, Scripture readers' 
societies, Pastoral aid societies, Bible women, mothers' meet- 
ings, were utterly unknown. Even schools for the children of 
the poor were few, and comparatively defective, and utterly out 
of proportion to the wants of the population. In short, the 
evangelical minister of a great town a hundred years ago was 
almost entirely shut up to the use of one weapon. The good 
old apostolical plan of incessant preaching, both " publicly and 
from house to house," was nearly the only machine that he 
could use. He was forced to be pre-eminently a man of one 
thing, and a soldier with one weapon, a perpetual preacher 01 
God's Word. Whether in the long run the minister of last cen- 
tury did not do more good with his one weapon than many do 
in modern times with an immense train of parochial machinery, 



270 HIS POPULARITY. 

is a question which admits of much doubt. My own private 
opinion is, that we have too much lost sight of apostolical sim- 
plicity in our ministerial work. We want more men of " one 
thing" and "one book," men who make everything secondary 
to preaching the Word. Jt is hard to have many irons in the 
fire at once, and to keep them all hot. It is quite possible to 
make an idol of parochial machinery, and for the sake of it to 
slight the pulpit. 

These things ought to be carefully remembered in forming an 
estimate of Venn's ministry at Huddersfield. Let us never 
forget that he went to his great Yorkshire parish, like David 
against Goliath, with nothing but his sling and stones, and an 
unwavering faith in the power of God. He went there with no 
sympathizing London committee to correspond with him, en- 
courage him, and assist him with funds. He went there with 
no long-tried plans and approved modes of evangelical aggres- 
sion in his pocket. He went there with nothing but his Bible, 
and his Master at his side. Bearing these things in mind, I 
think the following extracts from his admirable biography ought 
to possess a peculiar interest in our eyes. 

His son, John Venn, says : " As soon as he began to preach 
at Huddersfield, the church became crowded to such an extent 
that many were not able to procure admission. Numbers be- 
came deeply impressed with concern about their immortal souls ; 
persons flocked from the distant hamlets, inquiring what they 
must do to be saved. He found them in general utterly igno- 
rant of their state by nature, and of the redemption that is in 
Christ Jesus. His bowels yearned over his flock, and he was 
never satisfied with his labours among them, though they were 
continued to a degree ruinous to his health. On the Sunday 
he would often address the congregation from the desk, briefly 
explaining the psalms and the lessons. He would frequently 
begin the service with a solemn and most impressive address, 
exhorting the worshippers to consider themselves as in the 



HIS REVERENCE FOR THE SABBATH. 271 

presence of the great God of heaven, whose eye was in a par- 
ticular manner upon them, while they drew nigh to him in his 
own house. His whole soul was engaged in preaching; and as 
at this time he only used short notes in the pulpit, ample room 
was left to indulge the feelings of compassion, tenderness, and 
love, with which his heart overflowed towards his people. In 
the week he statedly visited the different hamlets in his exten- 
sive parish ; and collecting some of the inhabitants at a private 
house, he addressed them with a kindness and earnestness 
which moved every heart." A letter written in 1762 to Lady 
Huntingdon, informs us that in that year, beside his stated work 
on the Lord's day, the Vicar of Huddersfield generally preached 
eight or ten sermons in the week in distant parts of the parish, 
when many came to hear who would not come to church. It 
also mentions that his outdoor preaching was found especially 
useful. 

His grandson, Henry Venn, has gathered some additional 
facts about his Huddersfield ministry, which are well worth 
recording. He tells us that " Mr. Venn made a great point of 
the due observance of the Sabbath, both in the town and parish. 
He induced several of the most respectable and influential in- 
habitants to perambulate the town, and by persuasion, rather 
than by legal intimidation, to repress the open, violation of the 
day. By such means a great and evident reformation was ac- 
complished." 

" He endeavoured to preserve the utmost reverence and de- 
votion in public worship, constantly pressing this matter upon 
his people. He read the service with peculiar solemnity and 
effect. The Te JDeum, especially, was recited with a triumphant 
air and tone, which often produced a perceptible sensation 
throughout the whole congregation. He succeeded in inducing 
the people to join in the responses and singing. Twice in the 
course of his ministry at Huddersfield he preached a course of 
sermons in explanation of the Liturgy. On one occasion, as 



272 EFFECTS OF HIS MINISTRY. 

he went up to church, he found a considerable number of per- 
sons in the churchyard, waiting for the commencement of the 
service. He stopped to address them, saying, he hoped they 
were preparing their hearts for the service of God, and that he 
had himself much to do to preserve his heart in a right frame. 
He concluded by waving his hand for them to go into the 
church before him, and waited till they had all entered." 

" He took great pains in catechizing the younger members 
of his congregation, chiefly those who were above fourteen years 
of age. The number was often very considerable ; and he wrote 
out for their use a very copious Explanation of the Church 
Catechism, in the way of questions and answers."* 

The immediate effects produced by Henry Venn's preaching 
appear to have been singularly deep, powerful, and permanent. 
Both his son and grandson have supplied some striking illus- 
trations of them. 

His son says : " A club, chiefly composed of Socinians, in a 
neighbouring market-town, having heard much censure and 
ridicule bestowed upon the preaching of Henry Venn, sent two 
of their ablest members to hear this strange preacher, detect his 
absurdities, and furnish matter of merriment for the next meet- 
ing. They accordingly went to Huddersfield Church ; but 
were greatly struck, on entering, by seeing the multitude that 
was assembled together, and by observing the devotion of their 
behaviour, and their anxiety to attend the worship of God. 
When Mr. Venn ascended the reading-desk, he addressed his 
flock, as usual, with a solemnity and dignity which showed him 
to be deeply interested in the work in which he was engaged. 
The subsequent earnestness of his preaching, and the solemn 
appeals he made to conscience, deeply impressed the visitors, 

* I cannot make out whether this Explanation of the Church Catechism was ever pub- 
lished. It certainly does not appear in a complete manuscript catalogue of Mr. Venn's 
writings which, by the kindness of one of his descendants, is now lying before me. If it 
was ever published, it seems a pity that it has fallen out of sight, and is not better known. 
Something, perhaps, would be known of it in the town of Huddersfield at this day. Cars 
any reader throw light on the point ? 



FRUITS FOUND IN 1824. 273 

so that one of them observed, as they left the church, ' Surely 
God is in this place ! There is no matter for laughter here !' 
This gentleman immediately called on Mr. Venn, told him who 
he was, and the purpose for which he had come, and earnestly 
begged his forgiveness and his prayers. He requested Mr. 
Venn to visit him without delay, and left the Socinian congre- 
gation ; and from that time to the hour of his death became 
one of Mr. Venn's most faithful and affectionate friends."* 

" Another gentleman, highly respectable for his character, 
talents, and piety, the late William Hey, Esq., of Leeds, used 
frequently to go to Huddersfield to hear Mr. Venn preach, and 
he assured me that once returning home with an intimate friend, 
they neither of them opened their lips to each other till they 
came within a mile of Leeds, a distance of fifteen miles, so 
deeply were they impressed by the truths which they had heard, 
and the manner in which they had been delivered." 

Henry Venn's grandson visited Huddersfield in 1824, fifty- 
three years after his honoured grandfather had left the place. 
On inquiry he found that even after the lapse of half a century, 
the fruits of his wonderful ministry were yet remaining on earth. 
.The memorials he gathered together from these survivors of 
the old congregation are so deeply interesting that I am sure 
my readers will be glad to hear them, though in a somewhat 
abridged form. 

Mr. Venn's grandson says : " Through the kind assistance of 
Benjamin Hudson, Esq., of Huddersfield, I saw all the old 
people then living in the town and neighbourhood who had 
received their first religious impressions under my grandfather's 
ministry, and still maintained a religious character. They were 
all in the middle or lower ranks of life ; none of a superior class 
had survived. What 1 am about to record must, therefore, be 
received as the genuine and unstudied testimony of persons of 
plain, unpolished sense. 

* This gentleman was James Kershaw, Esq., of Halifax. 
(195) 1 8 



274 TESTIMONY OF LIVING WITNESSES. 

" Mr. William Brook of Longwood gave me the following 
account of the first sermon he heard at Huddersfield Church : 
' I was first led to go by listening with an uncle of mine, named 
W. Mellor, at the door of a prayer-meeting : we thought there 
must be something uncommon to make people so earnest. My 
uncle was about nineteen, and I was about sixteen ; and we 
went together to the church one Thursday evening. There was 
a great crowd within the church, all silent, and many weeping. 
The text was, " Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found 
wanting." W. Mellor was deeply attentive ; and when we came 
out of church we did not say a word to each other till we got 
some way into the fields. Then W. Mellor stopped, leaned his 
back against a wall, and burst into tears, saying, " I can't stand 
this." His conviction of sin was from that time most powerful, 
and he became quite a changed character. I was not so much 
affected at that time ; but I could not after that sermon be easy 
in sin. I began to pray regularly ; and so, by degrees, I was 
brought to know myself, and to seek salvation in earnest. The 
people used to go from Longwood in droves, to Huddersfield 
Church, three miles off. Some of them came out of church to- 
gether, whose ways home were in this direction ; and they used 
to stop at the Firs' End, about a mile off, and talk over, for 
some time, what they had heard, before they separated to go to 
their homes. That place has been to me like a little heaven 
below ! 

" ' I never heard a minister like him. He was most powerful 
in unfolding the terrors of the law. When doing so, he had a 
stern look that would make you tremble. Then he would turn 
off to the offers of grace, and begin to smile, and go on entreat- 
ing till his eyes filled with tears.' 

" The next person I saw was George Crow, aged eighty-two, 
of Lockwood, a hamlet about a mile from the town. When I 
asked him whether he ever thought of old times, he answered, 
* Ah, yes ! and shall do to the last. I thought when Mr. Venn 



ELLEN ROEB UCK AND JOHN STARKE Y. 275 

went I should be like Rachel for the rest of my days, weeping 
and refusing to be comforted. I was abidingly impressed the 
first time I heard him, at an early period of his ministry. He 
was such a preacher as I never heard before or since; he struck 
upon the passions like no other man. Nobody could help 
being affected : the most wicked and ill-conditioned men went 
to hear him, and fell like slaked lime in a moment, even though 
they were not converted. I could have heard him preach all 
the night through.' 

" I also visited Ellen Roebuck, eighty-five, living at Almond- 
bury. She was very deaf and infirm, but when she understood 
the object of my visit she talked with great energy. 'I well 
remember his first coming to Huddersfield, and the first sermon 
he preached. It was on that text, " My heart's desire and 
prayer to God for Israel is that they may be saved :" and it was 
as true of himself as it was of St. Paul. He took every method 
for instructing the people ; he left nothing unturned. Always 
at work ! it was a wonder he had not done for himself sooner. 
The lads he catechized used to tell him that people said he was 
teaching a new doctrine, and leading us into error; but he 
always replied, "Never mind them ; do not answer them; read 
your Bibles, and press forward, dear lads ; press forward, and 
you cannot miss heaven." ' 

" I saw also John Starkey of Cawcliff, aged eighty. As I 
conversed with him, he seemed gradually to wake up, till his 
countenance glistened with joy. He said, 'I esteemed Mr. 
Venn too much for a man. I almost forgot that he was a 
creature and an instrument. His going away went nearer to 
my heart than anything. He was a wonderful preacher. When 
he got warm with his subject, he looked as if he would jump 
out of his pulpit. He made many weep. I have often wept 
at his sermons. I could have stood to hear him till morning. 
When he came up to the church, he used to go round the 
churchyard and drive us all in before him.' " 



276 EXTRA-PAROCHIAL LABOURS. 

I make no excuse for making the above extracts. They 
speak for themselves. I pity the man who can read them 
without interest. If after fifty years such living witnesses to 
the power of Henry Venn's ministry could be found, what may 
we suppose must have been the effect of his preaching in his 
day and generation ? If the direct good he did was so marked 
and unmistakable, what a vast amount of indirect good must 
have been done by his presence in the district where God 
placed him ? 

We must not for a moment suppose that Henry Venn's 
labours in Christ's cause were entirely confined to Huddersfield 
during the time that he was vicar of that parish. So far from 
this being the case, there is abundant evidence that he occa- 
sionally did the work of an evangelist in many parts of England 
very distant from Yorkshire. We possess no journal of his 
movements, but a close examination of that interesting but 
oddly-arranged book, " Lady Huntingdon's Life and Times," 
shows plainly that the Vicar of Huddersfield preached e very- 
year in many pulpits besides his own. It could hardly be 
otherwise. He was on terms of intimate friendship with all the 
leading evangelists of his day, such as Wesley, Whitefield, Grim- 
shaw, and Fletcher. These apostolic men not unfrequently 
found their way to Huddersfield vicarage, and preached for him 
in his pulpit. We cannot wonder that, so long as health per- 
mitted, Venn helped them in return. In fact, he seems fre- 
quently to have made excursions through various parts of 
England, and to have laboured in every way to preach the 
gospel, as an itinerant, so far as parochial engagements would 
allow him. We hear of him constantly in Lady Huntingdon's 
chapel at Oathall near Brighton, and at Bath. At one time he 
is at Bretby near Burton-on-Trent. At another he is at 
Fletcher's famous establishment at Trevecca in South Wales. 
Occasionally we read of his preaching at Bristol, Chelten- 
ham, Gloucester, Worcester, and London. The half of his 



FRIEND L Y RE LA TION WITH WHITEFIELD. 27 7 

labours, probably, outside his own pansh, is entirely un- 
known. 

The truth must be spoken on this point. It is vain to 
attempt to draw any broad line of distinction between Henry 
Venn and his great contemporaries in the revival of the last 
century. No doubt he had a large town parish, and of course 
found it more difficult than others to be long absent from home. 
But in all spiritual points, in matters of doctrine and practice, 
and in his judgment of what the times required, he was entirely 
one with Whitefield and Grimshaw. He delighted in their 
labours. He stood by their side and helped them, whenever 
he had an opportunity. When Grimshaw died, it was Henry 
Venn who preached his funeral sermon in Luddenden Church. 
When Whitefield died, the man who preached the noblest 
funeral sermon in Lady Huntingdon's chapel at Bath was the 
same Henry Venn. Conduct like this, I am afraid, will not 
recommend my hero to some Churchmen. They will think he 
would have done better had he confined his labours to Hud- 
dersfield, and abstained from apparent irregularities. I content 
myself with saying that I cannot agree with them. I think that 
in keeping up intimate relations with the itinerant evangelists of 
last century, Venn did what was best and wisest in the days in 
which he lived. I think his unhesitating attachment to White- 
field to the very last a singularly noble trait in his character. It 
ought never to be forgotten that the last sermon preached by 
Whitefield in Yorkshire, before he sailed for America to die, 
was delivered in the pulpit of Huddersfield Church. 

An extract from a letter written by Venn to Lady Hunting- 
don, about the year 1768, will give a very clear idea of the 
unhesitating course of action which the Vicar of Huddersfield 
adopted, and the boldness with which he supported Whitefield. 
It was written on the occasion of Whitefield preaching on a 
tombstone in the churchyard of Cheltenham Parish Church, 
after permission had been refused to preach in the church. 



278 LE TTER TO LAD Y HUNTINGDON. 

Venn says: "To give your ladyship any just description of 
what our eyes have witnessed and our hearts have felt within 
the last few days at Cheltenham, exceeds my feeble powers. 
My inmost soul is penetrated with an overwhelming sense of 
the power and presence of Jehovah, who has visited us with an 
effusion of his Spirit in a very eminent manner. There was a 
visible appearance of much soul-concern among the crowd that 
filled every part of the burial-ground. Many were overcome 
with fainting ; others sobbed deeply; some wept silently; and 
a solemn concern appeared on the countenance of almost the 
whole assembly. But when he pressed the injunction of the 
text (Isa. lv. 1) on the unconverted and ungodly, his words 
seemed to act like a sword, and many burst out into piercing 
cries. At this juncture Mr. Whitefield made an awful pause of 
a few seconds, and wept himself. During this interval Mr. 
Madan and myself stood up and requested the people, as much 
as possible, to restrain themselves from making a noise. Oh, 
with what eloquence, what energy, what melting tenderness, did 
Mr. Whitefield beseech sinners to be reconciled to God, to 
come to Him for life everlasting, and to rest their weary souls 
on Christ the Saviour ! When the sermon was ended the 
people seemed chained to the ground. Mr. Madan, Mr. 
Talbot, and myself, found ample employment in trying to com- 
fort those who seemed broken down under a sense of guilt. 
We separated in different directions among the crowd, and each 
was quickly surrounded by an attentive audience still eager to 
hear all the words of this life. Of such a season it may well be 
said, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of 
salvation I have succoured thee ; behold ! now is the accepted 
time — behold ! now is the day of salvation !" 

In the year 1771, Henry Venn's useful Yorkshire ministry 
came to an end. Most reluctantly he left Huddersfield, and 
became the rector of Yelling, a small country living in Hunting- 
donshire. This happened when he was only forty-seven years 



BECOMES RECTOR OF YELLING. 279 

old. There were many who blamed him for the step, and 
thought that he ought to have died at his post in Yorkshire. 
But really, when the circumstances of the case are fairly con- 
sidered, it seems impossible to say that he was wrong. His 
health during the latter period of his residence at Huddersfield 
failed so completely, that his public usefulness was almost at an 
end. He had a cough and spitting of blood, beside other 
symptoms of approaching consumption. He was only able to 
preach once a fortnight ; and even then the exertion rendered 
him incapable of rising from his couch for several days. In 
short, it is very evident that if he had continued at Hudders- 
field much longer, he would have died. Just at this crisis, his 
friend the Lord Chief Baron Smythe, who was one of the Com- 
missioners of the Great Seal, offered him the Chancellor's living 
of Yelling. The offer appears to me to have been a providential 
opening, and I think Venn was quite right to accept it. 

It is easy to find fault with Venn for " overworking" himself 
at Huddersfield, and to hold him up as a beacon and warning 
to young ministers who are full of zeal and abundant in labours. 
I venture to doubt, however, whether it is quite just and fair. 
It was not " overworking " alone that made his health break 
down. There were mental causes as well as physical. Nothing, 
I suspect, had so much to do with his removal from Hudders- 
field as the death of his wife in 1767, leaving him a widower 
with five young children. Up to this time, his position at 
Huddersfield had been one of many trials, partly from the bitter 
opposition of many who hated evangelical religion, partly from 
the straitened circumstances to which his very scanty income 
often reduced him. But so long as his wife lived, none of these 
things seemed to have moved him. Mrs. Venn was a woman 
of rare prudence, calmness, good sense, affection, and sympathy. 
She was, in fact, her husband's right hand. When she died, 
such a load of care and anxiety was accumulated on his head, 
that his health gradually gave way. People who have not been 



2 8 o HIS FEELINGS AT PAR TING. 

placed in similar circumstances, may probably not understand 
all this. Those who have had this cross to carry, can testify 
that there is no position in this world so trying to body and 
soul as that of the minister who is left a widower, with a young 
family and a large congregation. There are anxieties in such 
cases which no one knows but he who has gone through them; 
anxieties which can crush the strongest spirit, and wear out the 
strongest constitution. This, I strongly suspect, was one chief 
secret of Venn's removal from Huddersfield. He left it, no 
doubt, because he felt himself too ill to do any more work 
there. But the true cause probably of his breaking down was 
the load of care entailed on him by the death of his wife. It 
was just one of those secret blows from which a man's bodily 
health never recovers. 

Venn's own private feelings, on leaving Huddersfield, are best 
described in a letter which he wrote at the time to Lady 
Huntingdon : — " No human being," he says, " can tell how 
keenly I feel this separation from a people I have dearly loved. 
But the shattered state of my health, occasioned by my un- 
pardonable length and loudness in speaking, has reduced me to 
a state which incapacitates me for the charge of so large a 
parish. Providence has put it into the heart of the Lord Com- 
missioner to offer this small living to me. Pray for me, my 
most faithful friend, that God's blessing may go with me, and 
render my feeble attempts to speak of his love and mercy effi- 
cacious to the conversion of souls. At Yelling, as at Hudders- 
field, I shall still be your ladyship's willing servant in the service 
of the gospel ; and when I can be of any use in furthering your 
plans for the salvation of souls and the glory of Christ, I am 
your obedient servant at command." 

It is recorded that the last two or three months of Venn's 
residence at Huddersfield were peculiarly affecting. At an 
early hour the church was crowded when he preached, so that 
vast numbers were compelled to go away. Many came from 



DESCRIPTION OF YELLING. 281 

a great distance to take leave of him, and tell him how much 
they owed him for benefits received under his ministry. 
Mothers held up their children, saying, " There is the man who 
has been our faithful minister and our best friend !" The 
whole parish was deeply moved; and when he preached his 
farewell sermon (Col. iii. 2) he could hardly speak for deep 
emotion. 

The parish of Yelling, to which Henry Venn retired on 
leaving Huddersfield, is a little agricultural district on the 
south-east border of Huntingdonshire, about seven miles south 
of Huntingdon, five east of St. Neots, and twelve miles west of 
Cambridge. At this present day it has a population of about 
400 souls. It would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast 
than the great evangelist of Yorkshire found between his new 
cure and his old. Vast indeed is the transition from the warm- 
hearted and intelligent worshippers of a northern manufacturing 
district to the dull, and cold, and impassive inhabitants of a 
purely agricultural parish in the south of England ! Venn felt it 
deeply. He says himself in a letter to Stillingrleet, " Your letter 
found me under great searchings of heart, upon the point of 
beginning my ministry in this place. What a change from 
thousands to a company of one hundred! from a people 
generally enlightened, and many converted, to one yet sitting 
in darkness, and ignorant of the first principles of the gospel ! 
from a house resounding with the voice of thanksgiving, like 
the noise of many waters, to one where the solitary singers 
please themselves with empty sounds, or gratify their vanity by 
the imagination of their own excellence! from a Bethel to 
myself, and many more, to a nominal worship of the God of 
Christians ! A change painful indeed, yet unavoidable. With 
a heavy heart, therefore, did I begin yesterday to address my 
new hearers." 

Trying, however, as the change was to Henry Venn's mind, 
there can be little doubt that it was exceedingly beneficial to 



282 HIS SECOND MARRIAGE. 

his body. The comparative rest and entire change of his new 
position in all probability saved his life. Little by little his 
constitution rallied and recovered his tone, until he was able to 
get through the work of his small parish with comparative ease. 
In short, after going away from Huddersfield, apparently to 
die, he lived on no less than twenty-six years, to the great joy 
of his friends, the great advantage of his family, and the great 
benefit of the Church of Christ. How little man knows what 
is best for his fellow-creatures ! If the Vicar of Huddersfield 
had remained at his post, and died in harness, his children 
would have lost the best training that children perhaps ever 
had, and the world would have lost a quantity of most valuable 
correspondence. 

Venn's life at Yelling was singularly quiet and uneventful. 
His second marriage, soon after his settlement there, appears 
to have added much to his happiness. The lady whom he 
married was the widow of Mr. Smith of Kensington, and 
daughter of the Rev. James Ascough, Vicar of Highworth, 
Wilts. In her he had the comfort of finding a thorough help, 
and a most wise and affectionate stepmother to his children. 
She lived with him twenty-one years, and was buried at Yelling. 
The domestic arrangements and employments at his country 
home were truly simple and edifying. The following sketch, 
drawn out by himself for a Huddersfield friend, gives a pleasing 
impression of the way in which his life went on : " You tell me 
you have no idea how we go on. Take the following sketch. 
I am up one of the first in the house, soon after five o'clock ; 
and when prayer and reading the blessed Word is done my 
daughters make their appearance, and I teach them till Mrs. 
Venn comes down at half-past eight. Then family prayer 
begins, which is often very sweet, as my own servants are all, 
I believe, born of God. The children begin to sing prettily ; 
and our praises, I trust, are heard on high. From breakfast 
we are all employed till we ride out, in fine weather, two hours 



LIFE AT YELLING. 283 

for health, and after dinner employed again. At six, I have 
always one hour for solemn meditation and walking in my 
house till seven. We have then sometimes twenty, and some- 
times more, of the people, to whom I expound God's Word. 
Several appear much affected ; and sometimes Jesus stands in 
the midst, and says, 'Peace be unto you !' Our devotions end 
at eight, we sup and go to rest at ten. On Sundays I am still 
enabled to speak six hours, at three different times, to my own 
great surprise. Oh the goodness of God in raising me up !" 

Quiet, however, as Henry Venn's life was at Yelling, we 
must not suppose that he had no opportunities of being useful 
to souls. Far from it. He was within reach of good old John 
Berridge, and the two fellow-labourers often met and strength- 
ened one another's hands. Though he seldom came before the 
public as he did in his Huddersfield days, he still found many 
ways of doing his Master's business, and proclaiming the gospel 
which he loved. The value of his preaching was soon dis- 
covered even in his secluded neighbourhood, and he had the 
comfort of seeing fruit of his ministry in Huntingdonshire as 
real and true, if not so abundant, as in Yorkshire. Occasion- 
ally he preached out of his own parish, though not perhaps so 
often as his friend and neighbour Berridge could have wished 
him. He delighted in the society of the good Vicar of Ever- 
ton whenever he could have it. " Just such a Calvinist as Mr. 
Berridge is," he used to say, " I wish all ministers of Christ to 
be." Sometimes he preached in London, and was not ashamed 
; to appear in the pulpit of Surrey Chapel so late as 1786. His 

J vicinity to Cambridge gave him many opportunities of seeing 
members of the University who valued evangelical truth, and 
men like Simeon, Jowett, Robinson, and Farish, long testified 
their deep sense of the advantage they derived from his society 
and conversation. Above all, the leisure that he enjoyed at 
Yelling enabled him to keep up a very extensive correspondence. 

.,. ( He lived in the good old time when letters were really well thought 



284 RETIRES FROM THE MINISTRY. 

over and worth reading, and the letters that left Yelling parsonage 
are a proof to this day how wisely and well he used his pen. 

On the whole, the evening of Henry Venn's life seems to 
have been a singularly happy one. He had the immense 
comfort of seeing his four children walking in their father's 
footsteps, clinging firmly to the doctrines he had loved and 
preached, and steadily serving their father's God. Not least, 
he had the joy of seeing his son John an able minister of the 
New Testament, and of leaving him rector of Clapham, and a 
man honoured by all who knew him. Indeed, it is recorded 
that there were few texts so frequently on Henry Venn's lips, 
in his latter years, as the saying of Solomon, "A wise son 
maketh a glad father." 

At the age of sixty- eight, he withdrew almost entirely from 
the public work of the ministry. His constitution had never 
entirely recovered from the effect of his work at Huddersfield, 
and old age came prematurely upon him. Yet even then he 
was never idle. In fact, he knew not what it was to have a 
tedious or a vacant hour. 

His last days are so beautifully described by his grandson, 
in his admirable biography, that I shall give the account just 
as he has set it down. He tells us that " he found constant 
employment in reading and writing, and in the exercise of 
prayer and meditation. He often declared that he never felt 
more fervency of devotion than whilst imploring spiritual bless- 
ings for his children and friends, and especially for the success 
of those who were still engaged in the ministry A the blessed 
gospel, from which he was himself laid aside. For himself, his 
prayer was, that he might die to the glory of Christ. ' There 
are some moments/ he once said, ' when I am afraid of what 
is to come in the last agonies ; but I trust in the Lord to hold 
me up. I have a great work before me, to suffer and to die 
to his glory.' But the spread of his Redeemer's kingdom lay 
nearer to his heart than any earthly or personal concerns. Even 



HIS DEATH. 285 

when the decay of strength produced occasional torpor, this 
subject would rouse him to a degree of fervency and joy, from 
which his bodily frame would afterwards suffer. I have under- 
stood that nothing so powerfully excited his spirits as the pre- 
sence of young ministers whose hearts he believed to be devoted 
to Christ. 

" About six months before his death he finally left Yelling, 
and settled at Clapham, near his son. His health from this 
time rapidly failed, and he was often on the brink of the grave. 
A medical friend, named Pearson, who often visited him, 
observed that the near prospect of death so elated his mind 
with joy, that it actually proved a stimulus to life. On one 
occasion Mr. Venn remarked some fatal appearances, and said, 
X Surely these are good symptoms.' Mr. Pearson replied, ' Sir, 
in this state of joyous excitement you cannot die ! ' 

"At length, on the 24th of June 1797, his happy spirit was 
released, and, at the age of seventy-three, Henry Venn entered 
into the long anticipated joy of his Lord." 

I have yet more to say about this good man. His preaching, 
his literary remains, his correspondence, and the leading features 
of his character, all seem to deserve further notice. But I must 
reserve all to another chapter. 



CHAPTER III. 

His Preaching Analysed — His Literary Remains examined — Extraordinary Power as a 
Letter-writer— Soundness of Judgment about Doctrine — Wisdom and Good Sense 
about Duties — Prudent Management of his Children — Unworldliness and Cheerful- 
ness — Catholicity and Kindliness of Spirit — Testimony of Cowper, Simeon, and Sir 
James Stephen. 

It is no easy matter, in the latter part of the nineteenth century, 
to form a correct estimate of Henry Venn's gifts and character. 
In fact, the materials for forming it are singularly scanty. He 
was peculiarly a man of one thing, absorbed in the direct work 



286 HENR Y VENN'S BIO GRAPH Y 

of his calling, always about his Master's business, and regard- 
less of the verdict of posterity. He spent the greater part of 
his life in Yorkshire and Bedfordshire, in days when the public 
press was in its infancy, and there was but little communica- 
tion between county and county. The only trustworthy bio- 
graphy of the man is a short account begun by his son, but not 
completed, and finished by a grandson who never saw him. 
As a specimen of biography, Venn's " Life " is beyond all 
praise; but still it is the work of a loving relative, and not of a 
bystander. Under these circumstances I feel unusual difficulty 
in handling the subject of this chapter. I cannot help thinking 
that the famous Vicar of Huddersfield was a man who is scarcely 
understood by the present generation. However, I must throw 
myself on the indulgence of my readers, and do the best I can. 

There are two things which I propose to do in this chapter, I 
will first give some account of my hero, as a preacher, a writer, 
and a correspondent. I will then point out certain prominent 
features in his character, which appear to me of such rare beauty 
and excellence that they deserve the special notice of Christians. 

As a preacher, I venture to think we know next to nothing 
of what Venn was. His sermons still extant, consisting of 
fourteen preached at Clapham, before he removed to Hudders- 
field, and eight single discourses preached on various special 
occasions between 1758 and 1785, most certainly fail to give 
us any idea of his pulpit powers. Perhaps the best of them 
are his funeral sermons for Grimshaw and Whitefield. In 
doctrine they are all, no doubt, sound, scriptural, and evan- 
gelical. But it is useless to deny that, at this day, they seem, 
as you read them, rather tame and commonplace. There is 
nothing striking, brilliant, or powerful about them. There is 
nothing that appears likely to lay hold of men's minds, to arrest 
or to keep up attention. In short, you find it hard to believe 
that the man who preached these sermons could ever have been 
considered a great preacher. 



VENN AS A PREACHER. 287 

\ Yet it is clear as daylight that Henry Venn was a great 
preacher. The extraordinary effects that his sermons produced 
3 at Huddersfield — his undeniable popularity with congregations 
accustomed to hear such mighty orators as Whitefield — the 
L high opinion entertained of his powers by Lady Huntingdon 
j and other good judges — all these are facts that cannot possibly 
I be explained away. The Vicar of Huddersfield may not have 
I possessed the glowing eloquence of Rowlands or Whitefield. 
j. But for all that he must evidently have been a man of great 
; pulpit powers. 

The truth of the matter, I suspect, is simply this. Venn's 
I sermons were precisely of that sort which are excellent to hear, 
, but not excellent to read. Listened to, they are clear, satisfy- 
ing, interesting, and instructive. Written down, they seem 
poor, and ungrammatical, and diffuse, and commonplace. 
Whether men will believe it or not, it is a fact that English for 
hearing, and English for reading, are almost two different lan- 
guages, and that speeches and sermons which sound admirable 
when you listen to them, seem curiously flat and lifeless when 
,you sit down to read them in cold blood. Of all the illustra- 
tions of this principle in rhetoric, I venture the conjecture that 
there seldom was a more remarkable one than Venn. To read 
his sermons over, there seems no more life or fire in them than 
there is in an empty stove in July. And yet the Vicar of 
Huddersfield, by the universal testimony of all his contempo- 
raries, was a mighty preacher. 

Let us add to all this that Venn's action and delivery, by all 
accounts, were singularly lively and forcible. The witness of 
his hearers at Huddersfield, on this point, was unanimous. His 
face, his voice, his hands, his eyes, his whole manner in preachi- 
ng, arrested attention, and clothed all that he said with power. 
Who can deny the immense effect of good deliver)" % The 
indents went so far as to call it the first, second, and third 
lualification of a good orator. Who can fail to see, from the 



288 ms EARLIER SERMONS. 

traditional account, already quoted, that Venn had a peculiar 
gift of delivery % The sermons of a man who " looked as if he 
would jump out of the pulpit," may contain nothing that is 
original or remarkable, but they are just the sermons that often 
turn the world upside down. Printed sermons can show us a 
preacher's matter, but they cannot show us his manner as 
delivered. Second-rate matter, if only well delivered, will never 
fail to beat first-rate matter badly delivered, as long as the 
world stands. 

After all, we must never forget that we know nothing of the 
nature of Venn's sermons in the days of his greatest power. 
They were extempore sermons, or sermons preached from notes ; 
and that fact alone speaks volumes. Not one of these ser- 
mons, I believe, was taken down shorthand, as most of White- 
field's were, and the consequence is that we have not an idea 
what they were like. But every intelligent hearer of the present 
day knows well that a man may be a most powerful extempore 
preacher, who is a very dull and uninteresting writer. There 
are scores of men whom it is very pleasant to hear, but very 
wearying to read. Perhaps if we possessed good shorthand 
reports of some of Venn's best Huddersfield sermons, we should 
see at a glance the secrets of his popularity as a preacher. As 
matters stand, I must frankly confess it is a subject which is 
now wrapped in some obscurity. I have done my best to throw 
some conjectural light upon it, and must leave it here. I only 
wish to remind my readers, in passing on, that there are few 
things so little understood in the world as the true causes of 
pulpit power. 

As a writer, Venn's reputation rests almost entirely on two 
works, which are pretty well known, — " The Complete Duty of 
Man," and " Mistakes in Religion." The first of them is a 
" System of doctrinal and practical Christianity," and was 
intended to supply something better than that mischievous and 
defective volume, the " Whole Duty of Man." The second of 



HIS LITERARY REMAINS. 289 

them is a collection of essays on the prophecy of Zacharias 
(the father of John Baptist), in which the erroneousness of 
many common views of religion is faithfully and scripturally 
exposed. Besides these, Venn published two or three smaller 
pamphlets, which are but little known. 

The two works above-named were undoubtedly very useful 
in their day, and are still to b e found on the shelves of most 
collectors of religious literature. They are sound, scriptural, 
and evangelical. But I strongly suspect that they stick to the 
shelves on which they stand, and are books which most people 
know better by name than by reading. The plain truth is, that 
every age has its own peculiar style of writing. Popular as the 
f Spectator," and " Tatler," and " Rambler," were in their times, 
it may well be doubted whether they would be much read if 

i published now. Even the pens of Addison, Johnson, and 
Steele, would not command success. The same remark applies 
to the sound and scriptural writings of Henry Venn. They did 
good service in their day, when men loved a somewhat stiff 
and classical style, and would have turned with disdain from 
any other sort of English composition as unworthy of an 
educated person. But like the jawbone of an ass, which 
Samson once used so effectively, they are now laid aside. 
Their work is done. Like the famous long-bows which our 

| , forefathers used at Cressy and Agincourt, we still view them 
with respect, and are proud of the victories which they won. 
But we do not use them ourselves. Rifled artillery and breech- 
loaders have superseded them. The fashion of our weapons 
is changed. 

1 After all, a close examination of Venn's two volumes will 
(Soon show an intelligent reader why they are no longer 
j popular. The composition is of that stately and somewhat 
, high-flown style which was thought the standard of excellence 
[in the last century. The sentences are often very long, and 

j somewhat involved. The words are frequently of Latin or 
U95) 19 



290 VENN AS A LETTER-WRITER. 

French origin. There is a curious absence of that rich fund 
of ready, happy illustration, which Whitefield and Rowlands 
had at their finger ends. The appeals to the imagination 
are few, and come in stiffly and awkwardly when they do 
come, like men dressed in new or borrowed clothes. In short, 
the style of the books is neither Saxon, nor sparkling, nor 
racy, nor pithy, nor anecdotal, nor pictorial. We must not 
wonder that they are no longer popular. Let us thank God 
for them. They were read in their day and generation by 
hundreds, who would probably have read no other evangelical 
literature. They may still do good to good men, and be liked 
by those who are really hungering for spiritual food. But we 
must not insist on everybody admiring them, or call people 
graceless and ungodly because they do not take pleasure in 
reading them. We must not count it a strange thing if many 
call them heavy, and dry, and cold. 

As a correspondent and letter-writer, Henry Venn deserves the 
highest admiration. Nothing gives me such a high idea of his 
mental and spiritual stature, as the collection of letters which 
accompanies his biography. I never wonder at his reputation 
when I read these letters. I consider them above all praise, 
and commend them to the special attention of all who want 
to form a just estimate of the seventh great evangelist of 
England a hundred years ago. The true measure of the Vicar 
of Huddersfield and Yelling is to be found in his letters 
much more than his books or printed sermons. 

Letter- writing, we must never forget, was a much more im- 
portant business in the last century than it is at the present day. 
The daily newspaper was a very different affair from what it is 
now. Periodicals and cheap publications had a very limited 
circulation. The result was, that letters became most powerful 
instruments either for good or evil. Men of the world, like 
Lord Hervey, Lord Chesterfield, or Horace Walpole, were not 
ashamed to throw their whole minds into their correspondence. 



SUPERIOR TO HIS PUBLISHED WORKS. 291 

Religious men entered so fully into doctrinal, practical, and ex- 
perimental questions with their correspondents, that their letters 
were almost as useful as their sermons. John Newton's well- 
known volume of letters, called " Cardiphonia," has perhaps 
clone as much good to Christ's cause as anything that ever came 
from his pen. In days like those, it is no mean praise to say 
that Henry Venn was second to none as a letter-writer. Com- 
pare the letters that he wrote after settling down in Huntingdon- 
shire, with the very best that Newton published, and I venture 
to say boldly that no impartial judge would hesitate to pro- 
nounce that the epistolary mine at Yelling yielded quite as rich 
metal as that at Oiney. 

It is curious, indeed, to observe how free Venn's letters are, 
comparatively, from the faults which impair the usefulness of 
his books and printed sermons. There is a striking absence 
of that stiff and laboured mode of expression to which I have 
already adverted. He writes easily, naturally, and pleasantly, 
and makes you feel that you would like to hear again from 
such a correspondent. Like the letters of Mrs. Savage (Matthew 
Henry's sister), you cannot help regretting that the editor made 
so small and limited a selection from the stock he had in hand. 
You close the volume with the impression that you would have 
liked it better if it had been twice as long. For my own part, 
I confess to a strong suspicion that we have in Venn's published 
correspondence the real key of Venn's popularity as a preacher. 
I suspect that his extempore sermons must have closely re- 
sembled his letters. I give it, of course, as my own private 
conjecture, and nothing more. All I say is, that if the vicar 
of Huddersfield preached in his pulpit in the same clear, pithy, 
and direct fashion that he wrote to his friends, I do not won- 
der that he was a preacher of mighty power. Once more, I 
Wvise those who want to know the secret of Venn's reputation 
to study his letters. 

It only remains for me now to point out what seem to me to 



292 HIS SOUNDNESS OF JUDGMENT. 

have been the prominent features in Henry Venn's character. 
I approach this subject with much diffidence. I have no other 
means of forming an opinion than a close examination of my 
hero's life and letters. I am very sensible that I may err in my 
judgment, and may say too much of some points and too little 
of others. But after dwelling so much on this good man's life 
and ministry, I cannot help inviting the attention of my readers 
to some characteristics which appear to me to stand out with 
peculiar brightness, as we look at him from a distance. 

i. The first excellency that I notice in Venn's character is 
the soundness of 'his judgment on difficult and disputable points in 
theology. He lived in a day when the controversy between Cal- 
vinism and Arminianism was at its height, and when violent and 
exaggerated statements were continually made on both sides. 
In a day like this, he seems to me to have been singularly 
happy in observing the proportion of truth in doctrine. I can 
put my finger on no leading minister of last century whose 
views of the gospel appear to have been so truly scriptural and 
well balanced. Of course he was alternately claimed as an ally, 
or abused as an enemy, by extreme partisans on both sides. 
But I can find no man of that era who seems to have under- 
stood so thoroughly the relative value of every part and portion 
of evangelical Christianity. 

Let us hear what he says about Calvinism : " As to Calvin- 
ism, you know I am moderate. Those who exalt the Lord 
Jesus as all their salvation, and abase man, I rejoice in. I 
would not have them advance further till they see more of the 
plan of sovereign grace, so connected with what is indisputable, 
that they cannot refuse their assent. Difficulties, distressing 
difficulties, are on every side, whether we receive that scheme 
or no. We must be as little children ; we must be daily exer- 
cising ourselves in humble love and prayer ; we must be look- 
ing up to our Saviour for the Holy Ghost. And after this has 
been our employment for many years, we shall find how much 



i- 
tit 



THE DOCTRINE OF ASSURANCE. 293 

truth there is in that divine assertion, ' If any man think that 
he knoweth anything yet as he ought to know, that man know- 
eth nothing.' I used to please myself with the imagination, fif- 
teen years ago, that by prayer for the Holy Ghost, and reading 
diligently the lively oracles, I should be able to understand all 
Scripture, and to give it all one clear and consistent meaning. 
That it is perfectly consistent I am very sure ; but it is not so 
to any mortal's apprehension here. We are so proud, that we 
must have something to humble us ; and this is one means to 
that end." — (15/^ Feb. 1772.) 

Let us hear what he says about assurance : " I believe that 
the knowledge of our acceptance with God is to be constantly 
urged as one of the greatest motives to lead a strict life, and to 
abstain from all appearance of evil, seeing the Holy Ghost, 
whose testimony alone can satisfy the conscience, will never 
dwell with the slothful or lukewarm, much less with presumptu- 
ous offenders. Scripturally to state, and firmly to maintain by 
sound argument, the knowledge of salvation, is, I believe, 

I a most useful way of preaching — guarding against hypocrites, 
who will sometimes speak great swelling words about these 
matters, though themselves the servants of corruption, and con- 

'scious of the lie they tell in speaking of their joy in the Lord. 

II judge that one great reason of the worldliness prevailing 
amongst orthodox Dissenters is their teachers not pressing this 

'point ; and that, amidst very much error, one great cause of 
'Mr. Wesley's success, some years ago, was his urging Chris- 
tians not to rest without joy in God from receiving the atone- 
ment."— (1775.) 

Let us hear what he says about holiness : " True holiness 
'is quite of another character than we, for a long time, in any 
degree conceive. It is not serving God without defect, but 
with deep self-abasement, with astonishment at his infinite con- 
descension and love to sinners, to ungodly enemies, and to men 
' who in their lost estate are exceedingly vile. It is pleasing to 



294 ON WEAK FAITH. 

consider how we are all led into this point, however we may 
differ in others ; and were it not for the demon of controversy, 
and a hurry of employment which leaves no time for self-know- 
ledge or devout meditation on the oracles of God, I am per- 
suaded we should very soon be so grounded on this matter, 
that bystanders would no longer reproach us for our divisions." 

—(i776.) 

Let us hear what he says about weak faith : " Weak faith 
seeks salvation only in Christ, and yields subjection to him, 
and brings the soul to his feet, though without assurance of 
being as yet saved by him. There is not one duty a weak 
believer slights. Weak faith is attended with sorrow and humili- 
ation ; as in his case he said with tears, ' Lord, I believe ; 
help thou mine unbelief It produces new desires and affec- 
tions, new principles and purposes, and a new practice, though 
not in such strength and vigour as is found in old established 
believers. Ask the weakest and most disconsolate believer, 
whether he would forsake and give up his hope in Christ ; and 
he will eagerly reply, 'Not for the whole world !' There is, 
therefore, no reason why weak believers should conclude against 
themselves ; for weak faith unites as really with Christ as strong 
faith, just as the least bud in the vine draws sap and life from 
the root no less than the strongest branch. Weak believers, 
therefore, have abundant cause to be thankful ; and while they 
reach after growth in grace, ought not to overlook what they 
have already received." — (1784.) 

Hear, lastly, what he says about indwelling sin : — " I sympa- 
thize with you in your troubles from the corruption of nature. 
I feel myself harassed with hardness of heart and coldness of 
affection toward God and man, and by slightly performing 
secret duties, when I know so well that God is ' a rewarder 
(only) of those who diligently seek him.' How totally does the 
estimate I made of myself thirty-five years ago differ from what 
I know now to be my real condition ! I then confidently 



HIS WISDOM AND GOOD SENSE. 295 

expected to be holy very soon, even as St. Paul was ; and then 
there would be no other difference here between me and angels 
than that I, by watching, fasting, and praying without ceasing, 
had conquered and eradicated sin, which they had never even 
known. Now, when I compare myself with the great apostle, 
I can scarcely perceive a diminutive feature or two of what 
shines so prominently in that noble saint." — (1787.) 

2. The second excellency that I notice in Venn is his singular 
wisdom and good sense in offering advice to others about duties. 
This is "a rare qualification. I sometimes think it is almost 
easier to find a man of grace than a man of sense. How few 
are the people to whom we can turn for counsel on practical 
questions in religion, and feel a confidence that they will advise 
us well ! The vicar of Huddersfield appears to me to have 
possessed the spirit of counsel and of a sound mind in an emi- 
nent degree. His letters to Jonathan Scott, John Brasier, and 
Lady Mary Fitzgerald, containing directions for living a Chris- 
tian life, and a solution of doubts and fears, ought to be read 
in their entirety to be fully appreciated. They are so thoroughly 
good all the way through that it is not fair to quote from them. 
I know nothing in the English language, of a short kind, so 
likely to be useful to those who are beginning a Christian life. 
His letter to a clergyman on the study of Hebrew and the value 
of translations of the Bible, is a model of sensible advice, and 
furnishes abundant proof that evangelical clergymen of the last 
century were not, as their enemies often insinuated, "unlearned 
and ignorant men." Last, but not least, his letters to his son 
and other clergymen on the ministerial office and its duties and 
trials, and the mistakes of young ministers, are a magazine of 
Christian wisdom which will amply repay examination. Indeed, 
there are few books which I would so strongly recommend to 
the attention of young clergymen as " Venn's Life and Letters." 
The truth is, the whole volume is full of strong Christian good 
sense, and it is difficult, in giving selections from it, to know 



296 EXTRACTS FROM HIS LIFE AND LETTERS. 

where to begin and where to stop. The following quotations 
must suffice. 

To a friend at Huddersfield he says, in 1763 : — "The first 
thing I would press upon you is to beg of God more light. 
There is not a more false maxim than this, though common in 
almost every mouth, that 'Men know enough if they would 
but practice better.' God says, on the contrary, ' My people 
are destroyed for lack of knowledge.' And as at first men live 
in sin easy and well pleased, because they know not what they 
do ; so after they are alive and awake they do little for God, 
and gain little victory over sin, through the ig?iorance that is in 
them. They have no comfort, no establishment, no certainty 
that they are in the right path, even when they are going to 
God, because the eyes of their understanding are so little 
enlightened to discern the things that make for their peace. 
In all your prayers, therefore, call much upon God for divine 
teaching." 

To a rich widow residing in London he says : — "In the day 
when the eternal state of man is determined, the greater part of 
those that are lost will perish, not through any gross and scan- 
dalous iniquity, but through a deadness to God and his love, an 
ignorance of their own sinfulness, and, in consequence of that, 
through reigning pride and self-sufficiency. Now, the one 
great source of all this miserable disorder, or that at least by 
which it is maintained and strengthened, is keeping much com- 
pany with those whom the Scripture marks out as engaged in 
talk without sense — company, not with near relatives or chosen 
friends, not with those for whom we have any real regard, but 
with those who come to see us and we go to see them, only 
because the providence of God has brought us into one town. 
It is this that devours infinitely precious time, and engages us 
in mere trifling, when we otherwise should be drawing nigh to 
God and growing rich in divine knowledge and grace ; and 
such slaves are we naturally to the love of esteem, so eageily 



ON THE DUTY OF PARENTS. 297 

desirous of having every one's good word, that we are content 
to go on in the circle of fashionable folly, while our hearts con- 
demn us, and a secret voice whispers, ' This manner of spend- 
ing time can never be right.' " 

To the same lady he says : — " You certainly judge right not 
to restrain your son from balls, cards, &c, since a mother will 
never be judged, by a son of his age, capable of determining for 
him ; and perhaps, after your most strict injunctions to have 
done with such sinful vanities, he would be tempted even to 
violate your authority. The duty you are called of God to 
exercise now is to bear the cross borne at different times and 
in divers measures by all the disciples of a crucified Saviour. 
True, it is painful to see one's dear child a lover of pleasure 
more than of God — painful to see a young creature, born for 
communion with God and acquaintance with heavenly joys, 
wedded to trivial gratifications and the objects of sense alone. 
But such are we ! God prevented us with his goodness, and 
sounded an alarm in our souls, or we had been such to this 
hour. He expects, then, that your experience should teach 
you to wait for patience till mercy apprehend him also. 
From the whole, you see you are to learn two most important 
lessons from the painful situation you remain in with regard to 
your son. The one is, your own weakness and inability to give 
a single ray of light, or to excite the faintest conviction of sin, or 1 
to communicate the least particle of spiritual good, to one who 
is dearer to you than life. How ought this to take away every 
proud thought of our own sufficiency, and to keep us earnest 
importunate suppliants at the door of Almighty mercy and free 
grace ! The other lesson is, that your own conversion, and 
reception of the Lord Jesus Christ as your portion and 
righteousness, ought to be marvellous in your eyes. You have 
many kind thoughts and the highest esteem for me, for which I 
desire to retain a dear sense in my mind ; but you know I am 
merely a voice which said, ' Behold the Lamb of God !' " 



298 HIS PR UDENT MAN A GEMEN T. 

3. The third excellency which strikes me in Venn's character 
is his singular prudence and tenderness in the management of his 
children. Few ministers, perhaps, have ever been more success- 
ful than he was in the education and training of his family ; 
few, perhaps, ever trained their sons and daughters with such 
unwearying pains, diligence, affection, watchfulness, and prayer. 
The families of pious ministers, like the sons of Samuel and 
David, have often brought discredit on their father's house ; or, 
like the children of Moses, have not been in any way remark- 
able. The family of Henry Venn forms a bright exception. 
All turned out well ; all proved Christians of no common 
degree ; and all gladdened their father's heart in his old age. 

It would be impossible, in the narrow limits of this work, 
to give any adequate idea of Venn's dealing with his children. 
Those who feel an interest in the subject, and would like to 
know a most successful parent's mode of communication with 
his children, would do well to study the hundred pages of 
letters to his children which are to be found in the volume of 
his life and letters. Rarely indeed does a father succeed in 
uniting faithfulness, spirituality, and deep familiar affection so 
completely, in his correspondence with sons and daughters, as 
Henry Venn did. I can only find room for three specimens. 

To his daughter Catherine he says, in 1781, writing on the 
due observance of the Sabbath : — " When I was of your age, I 
was, alas ! a mere pretender to religion. Though I constantly 
went to the house of God on the Sabbath, I saw not the glory 
of the Lord — I understood not his Word — I did not hear it 
when it was read — I asked for nothing — I wanted nothing for 
my soul, — so foolish and ignorant was I ! I was glad when the 
worship was over and the day was over, that my mouth might 
pour out foolishness, and that I might return to my sports and 
amusements. Oh, what a wicked stupidity of soul ! I am 
astonished how God could bear with me. Had he said : ' I 
swear thou shalt never ascend into the hill of the Lord, nor see 



OF HIS CHILDREN. 299 

my face, who findest it such a weariness to be at church, and 
art so proud and profane in spirit. No : dwell for ever with 
those whom you are like ; dwell with the devil and his angels, 
and with all who have departed this life enemies to my name 
and glory.' Oh ! had the Lord spoken thus to me in dis- 
pleasure, I had received the due reward of my deeds. But 
adore him for his love to your father. In this state he opened 
my eyes and allured my heart, and gave me to seek him and 
his strength and face, and to join all his saints who keep holy 
his day, and to be glad to hear them say, ' Come, and let us go 
up to the house of the Lord.' Nay, more than this, he gave 
me your blessed mother for a companion, who loved exceedingly 
the house and day of the Lord ; and repaired to you and me 
her loss, by giving me another of his dear children who sancti- 
fies each Sabbath with delight, and reverences God's house 
with her whole heart. Thus, instead of casting me into hell, 
he has made me the father of one dear saint in glory, and of 
four more — all of whom, I trust, fear and love the God of their 
father and mother, and all of whom, I have a lively hope, I 
shall meet in the courts above." 

To his daughter Jane he writes, in 1785 : — " A great part of 
our warfare is to overcome our natural propensity to seek 
happiness in meat and drink, in dress and show ; which only 
nourish our disease, and keep us from communion with God as 
our chief good. More than thirty-seven years ago he was 
pleased, in his adorable mercy, to give me a demonstration 
that all was vanity and vexation of spirit but himself. From 
that hour (such is the energy of divine teaching), rising up and 
lying down, going out and coming in, I have felt this truth. I 
began and continued to seek the Lord and his strength and 
his face evermore. I was then led to know how the poverty 
and emptiness of all terrestrial good could be well supplied 
from the fulness of an adorable Jesus. And, oh ! how unspeak- 
ably blessed I am that I see my children impressed with the 



300 ADVICE TO HIS SON. 

same precious and invaluable feelings, and that I hope, upon 
the best grounds, that we shall enjoy an eternity together in 
glory, where you shall know your father, not the poor, polluted, 
hasty, sinful creature he now is, but holy, without spot, wrinkle, 
or any such thing ; and when I shall know my dear children, 
not as emerging from a sea of corruption, and struggling against 
the law of sin in their members, and needing frequent intima- 
tions to do what is right, but when naturally and continually 
all within and without will be perfectly holy. Oh ! what a 
meeting will that be, when all my prayers for your precious 
souls ever since you were born, when all my poor yet well- 
meant instructions and lessons from God's Word, and all your 
own petitions, shall be fully answered, and we shall dwell in a 
perfect union together !" 

To his son John, on his appointment to the rectory of 
Clapham, he writes, in 1792 : — "Children, the old adage says, 
are careful comforts. I find the truth of this now, particularly 
respecting you. I was careful to see you called out to useful- 
ness ; and now providentially a great door is found, I am in 
daily concern lest you should be hurt and suffer loss in your 
new station. You must beware of company ; you must be 
much in secret and retirement. Visiting friends, and being 
seldom in a solemn spirit before the throne of grace, ruin most 
of those who perish among professors of godliness." 

The following facts, communicated to me by a connection of 
Henry Venn's, are in themselves so deeply interesting, and 
throw so much light on his mode of dealing with little children, 
that I make no apology for introducing them here. It appears 
that one of his daughters married a widower with a family of 
young children. These motherless little ones excited a strong 
interest in his heart, and he took one of them, only three years 
old, to his home at Yelling, and endeavoured to train the child 
for God. My correspondent says : — 

" The first thing he found out was that the poor child was 



FRUIT OF BIBLE STORIES. 3° I 

afraid of the dark. That very evening he took him by the 
hand, led him into his study, where the shutters were already 
closed, and seating him on his knee, with his arm close round 
him, he told the timid boy so wonderful a story out of God's 
Book as to make the child forget all beside. This he repeated 
day by day, till the evening story came to be anxiously expected. 
' You will sit by my side to-day, John, and hold my hands, 
while you hear a new Bible story,' said the venerable man, 
after many a story had been told on the knee; 'and to-morrow 
you will like to sit by me without holding my hands, will you 
not V This point once gained, a seat at a little distance was 
chosen, still in the dark ; then one opposite ; then one at the 
furthest end of the study ; till, before winter closed, my father 
had entirely forgotten his fears of the dark, nor did they at any 
period of his life ever recur to him." 

The advice given by this more than grandfather to the child, 
when he left Yelling for school, was often quoted ; and though 
for a time he threw off the restraints of religion, and sought 
happiness in the world, the closing words of his venerable friend 
were never forgotten, and in after-life were repeated to his 
children and grandchildren scores if not hundreds of times : 
" Remember, little John, if anything could make heaven not 
heaven to me, it would be the not having you with me there." 

God's blessing did follow that Christian teaching ; and after 
a long life spent, first in actively doing, and then in suffering, 
his Father's will, that " Little John" rejoined his loved and 
honoured teacher in the skies, frequently saying, " When I get 
to heaven, how I shall bless God for the early lesson of dear 
old Henry Venn !" 

4. The fourth excellency that I notice in Venn is his singular 
unworldliness and cheerfulness of spirit. He had his share of 
worldly trials ; and these, too, of all sorts and descriptions 
Sickness and severe bodily trials — the loss of his wife in the 
middle of his abundant labours at Huddersfield — straitened 



302 HIS UNWORLDLINESS AND CHEERFULNESS. 

circumstances, arising out of the extreme scantiness of his 
professional income, — all these things broke in upon him from 
time to time, and sorely tried his faith. But he seems to have 
been wonderfully strengthened throughout all his troubles. He 
preserved a cheerful frame of mind under every cross and trial, 
and was always able to see blue sky even in the gloomiest day. 

His very portrait gives one the impression of a happy Chris- 
tian. As we look at it, we can well understand the story that 
on more than one occasion he was asked to preach by clergy- 
men who did not know him, under the idea that he was a jolly 
parson of the old school, and not a Methodist preacher ! * 
They judged of him by his smiling face, and could not imagine 
that the man who had such a countenance could be the friend 
of Whitefield, Berridge, and Wesley. Striking, indeed, is the 
lesson that the incident contains. Well would it be for the 
Church of Christ if all preachers of the gospel were more care- 
ful to recommend their principles by their demeanour, and to 
show by their bearing that their Master's service is truly happy. 

One single extract from his correspondence will suffice to 
show the vicar of Huddersneld's unworldly spirit. He heard 
that a lady, who knew and valued him, had made a will, 
leaving him a large sum of money. He at once wrote her a 
letter, positively declining to accept it, of which the following 
extract is a part : " I understand by my wife your most kind 
and generous intention toward me in your will. The legacy 
would be exceedingly acceptable ; and I can assure you the 
person from whom it would come would greatly enhance the 
benefit. I love my sweet children as much as is lawful ; and 
as I know it would give you pleasure to administer to the 
comfort of me and mine, I should with greater joy accept of 
your liberality. 

" But an insurmountable bar stands in the way — the love of 

* All Evangelical clergymen a hundred years ago were called "Methodists." Many 
people m the present day are not aware of this fact. 



HIS CATHOLICITY. 303 

Him to whom we are both indebted, not for a transient benefit, 
for silver or gold, but, for an ' inheritance incorruptible, unde- 
fined, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you.' 
His honour, his cause, is, and must be, dearer to his people 
than wife, children, or life itself. It is the pious resolve of his 
saints, ' I count all things but loss for the excellency of the 
knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord.' To be, therefore, a 
stumbling-block in the way of any that are seeking him, to give 
the least countenance to any that would gladly bring his 
followers into contempt, would grieve me while in health, 
darken my mind in sickness, and load me with self-condemna- 
tion on my death-bed. After the most mature deliberation, 
therefore, it is our request that you will not leave us any other 
token of your regard than something of little value." 

5. The last excellency that I note in Henry Venn is his 
extraordinary catholicity and kindliness of spirit, and his readiness 
to love and honour his brethren. Jealousy among ministers of 
Christ is, unhappily, a very common feeling. Nowhere, per- 
haps, will you find men so slow to recognize the gifts of others, 
and so quick to detect their faults, as in the ranks of preachers 
of religion. Of all the men of last century who attained 
eminent usefulness, I find none so free from jealousy as Henry 
Venn. He seems to delight in speaking well of his fellow- 
labourers, and to rejoice in their gifts and success. 

It would be taking up too much room to quote all the 
expressions he uses about his contemporaries. Let it suffice to 
say that I find in his " Life " repeated kind words about the 
following men, — Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw, Romaine, 
Walker, Conyers, Hervey, Howell Harris, Berridge, Fletcher, 
Robinson, Newton, Adams, Cecil, Scott, and Abraham Booth 
the Baptist. That list alone is enough to show the largeness 
and warmth of Venn's heart. To suppose that he agreed with 
all these good men in all things, is simply unreasonable. But 
he had a quick eye to see grace, and a ready mind to acknow- 



304 TESTIMONY OF CHARLES SIMEON. 

ledge and admire it. Well would it be for the Church of 
Christ, if all ministers were more of his frame and spirit in this 
matter ! Envy and jealousy are too often the greatest blots on 
the character of great men. 

It only remains for me, now, to conclude my account of 
Henry Venn by quoting the language used about him by three 
good judges, though very different men. 

Let us hear what Cowper the poet thought of him. He says, 
in a letter to Newton, written in 1791: "I am sorry that Mr. 
Venn's labours below are so near to a conclusion. I have seen 
few men whom I could have loved more, had opportunity been 
given me to know him better ; so at least I have thought as 
often as I have seen him." 

Let us hear what Charles Simeon of Cambridge thought of 
him. He says : " I most gladly bear my testimony that not 
the half, nor the hundredth part, of what might have been justly 
said of that blessed man of God has been spoken. If any 
person now living, except his children, is qualified to bear this 
testimony, it is I, who, from my first entrance into orders to 
his dying hour, had most intimate access to him, and enjoyed 
most of his company and conversation. How great a blessing 
his conversation and example have been to me will never be 
known till the day of judgment. I dislike the language of 
panegyric, and therefore forbear to expatiate on a character 
which, in my estimation, was above all praise. Scarcely ever 
did I visit him but he prayed with me, at noon-day, as well as 
at common seasons of family- worship. Scarcely ever did I 
dine with him but his ardour in returning thanks, sometimes in 
an appropriate hymn, sometimes in prayer, has inflamed the 
souls of all present. In all the twenty-four years that I knew 
him, I never remember him to have spoken unkindly of any 
one but once ; and then I was struck with the humiliation he 
expressed for it in prayer next day." 

Let us hear, lastly, what Sir James Stephen thought of Henry 



TESTIMONY OF SIR JAMES STEPHEN. 3°5 

Venn. In his " Essays on Ecclesiastical Biography " (amidst 
some things I cannot subscribe to), he concludes his account 
of the vicar of Huddersfield and Yelling with the following 
passage : " With a well-stored memory, he was an independent, 
if not an original, thinker. With deep and even vehement 
attachments, he knew how to maintain, on fit occasions, even 
to those he loved most, a judicial gravity, and even a judicial 
sternness. He acted with indefatigable energy in the throng of 
men, and yet in solitude could meditate with unwearied per- 
severance. He was at once a preacher at whose voice multi- 
tudes wept and trembled, and a companion to whose privacy 
the wise resorted for instruction, the wretched for comfort, and 
all for sympathy. In all the exigencies, and in all relations of 
life, the firmest reliance might always be placed on his counsel, 
his support, and his example. Like St. Paul, he became all 
things to all men, and for the same reason, that he might by 
any means save some." 

Such was the last of the seven great spiritual heroes of the 
last century. I have dwelt long on his history, but I feel that 
he deserves it. He was not the commanding preacher that 
either Whitefield or Rowlands was. He did not possess the 
polish of Romaine, or the originality of Grimshaw or Berridge. 
But, take him for all in all, Henry Venn was a great man. 



(195) 20 




JBJalker of Cntro antr Jjts phusirjj. 

Born at Exeter, 1714 — Educated at Exeter College, Oxford — Ordained, 1737 — Curate of 
Truro, 1746 — At First very ignorant of the Gospel — Mr. Conon's Influence — Effect of 
his Preaching — Opposition — Self-denial and Holy Life — Remarkable Effect on Soldiers 
— Private Unity Meetings — Died, 1761 — Literary Remains — Preaching. 

tf intelligent Christian needs not to be reminded that 
the Church of Christ has always recognized two 
classes of prophetical writers in the Old Testament. 
There are four who are called "the greater" prophets, and 
twelve who are called "the less." All wrote by direct and 
equal inspiration of God ; " all spake as they were moved by 
the Holy Ghost;" and yet we do not hesitate to assign a 
higher importance to one class than to the other. 

A well-informed man knows well, that in the solar system 
some planets exceed others in size and glory. All are bright, 
and beautiful, and perfect. All proclaim to the student of the 
heavens that the Hand which made them was divine. Yet the 
glory of such bodies as Jupiter and Saturn is far greater than 
that of Mars, or Venus, or the Moon. 

Thoughts such as these come across my mind as I turn from 
the seven leading champions of the revival of English religion 
in the last century to some of their lesser contemporaries. 
There were not a few eminent ministers in our country who 
were entirely of one mind with Whitefield and his fellow- 
workers, and yet never attained to their greatness. They 
sympathized with the great leaders in all matters of doctrine. 



GIFTS OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 307 

They co-operated with them in the main, and rejoiced in their 
success. They cheerfully bore their share of the reproach cast 
on " Methodism " or evangelical religion. They shrank from 
no sacrifices, and spared no pains in setting forward Christ's 
gospel. But they did not possess the extraordinary public 
gifts of their seven brethren, and did not therefore leave so 
deep a mark on their generation. Like Silas and Timotheus 
in St. Paul's days, they did good work in their own positions ; 
but not work that attracted so much public attention as that 
of the mighty " masters of assemblies " whom I have described 
in preceding chapters. 

But we must beware that we do not undervalue men merely 
because they do not occupy prominent positions in the Church 

' of Christ. Various and manifold are the gifts of the Holy 
Ghost, and he divides them to every man severally as he thinks 
fit. One minister is called to preach to thousands, and shake 

' the world like a " son of thunder ; " while another is called to 
write hymns or compose books in an obscure corner of the 
earth. One man has gifts of voice, and delivery, and action, 

[ and fluency, and memory, and invention, which fit him to stand 
up before multitudes— like Paul on Mars' Hill, or Luther at 
Worms, or Whitefield in Moorfields — and to carry all before 
him. Another is shy, and gentle, and retiring, and can only 
make his mind work in solitude, quiet, and silence. Yet each 

"may be an instrument of mighty influence in God's hand. The 
\ast day, indeed, may prove that the work of him whose voice 
was never "heard in the street,'' and who dwelt among his own 
people, produced more permanent effect on souls than the 
'most brilliant open-air sermons. I fear that we are all apt to 
exaggerate the value of public gifts, and to depreciate gifts 
Which make no show before the world. Yet a time may come 
when the last shall be found first, and the first last. 

Remembering these things, I wish to give some acccunt of 
"our men of the last century who are far less known than some 



308 BIRTH OF SAMUEL WALKER. 

of their contemporaries, and yet were eminently useful in their I 
day and generation. The first whom I will introduce to my 
readers is Samuel Walker, the curate of Truro, in Cornwall. 

Walker was born at Exeter in 17 14, and died in 1761, at the 
early age of forty-seven. Partly from the circumstance that his 
ministerial life was entirely spent in one of the most remote 
corners of England, before railways were invented, and partly 
from his habits of mind, which made him entirely decline all 
public work of an aggressive and extra-parochial kind, he is a 
man whose name is scarcely known to many Christians. Yet 
he was one who, in his day, was most highly esteemed by such 
men as Wesley, Whitefield, Romaine, and Venn, for his emi- 
nent spirituality and soundness of judgment. Above all, he 
was one who cultivated his own corner of the Lord's vineyard 
with such singular success, that there were few places in Eng- 
land where such striking results could be shown from preaching 
the gospel as at Truro. 

The facts of Walker's life of which any record remains are 
few, and soon told. His family resided at Exeter, and was 
well connected. He was lineally descended from the good 
Bishop Hall, who was for a time Bishop of Exeter, and whose 
grand-daughter married a Walker. His grandfather, Sir Thomas 
Walker, was member of Parliament for Exeter. John Walker, 
Rector of St. Mary the More, in Exeter, who wrote a well- 
known volume about the "Sufferings of the Ejected Clergy 
under the Commonwealth, was also a relative of the subject of 
this chapter ; in fact, the first edition of the work was published 
in the very year that Samuel Walker was born. 

We know little of Walker's boyhood and youth, beyond the I 
fact that he was educated at Exeter Grammar School, and was on 
there for ten years — from the age of eight till he was eighteen, to 
He went to Exeter College, Oxford, in 1732, and in due course % 
of time took his degree of B.A. in that university. He seemsvic 
to have made good use of his time while he was at college, and'h: 



r 



ED UCA TED A T EXE TER COLLEGE. 309 

to have acquired much knowledge, which he found valuable in 
after-life. His biographer particularly mentions that "he culti- 
vated logic with much success, and always considered his early 
! devotion to that science as the foundation of the facility he 
; afterwards attained in a clear and methodical arrangement of 
ihis ideas. When complimented by his friends, who admired 
'the lucid and argumentative mode in which he treated every 
i subject, he always observed that logic had been his favourite 
ipursuit in youth, and that he recommended it to young divines." 
1 Beside being a reading man, he seems to have been thoroughly 
correct and moral in life ; and though utterly destitute of spirit- 
ual light or religion, he was mercifully preserved from the 
excesses into which many young men plunge at college, to 
their own subsequent bitter sorrow. We know nothing more 
of Walker's university life. We have no account of his com- 
panions, friends, or acquaintances. It is a curious fact, how- 
sver, that it is clear, from a comparison of dates, that he must 
have been an undergraduate of Exeter College at the very time 
when the so-called Methodist movement began, and when 
I Wesley, Whitefield, and Hervey were commencing their line of 
iction as aggressive evangelists at Oxford. It is another 
curious fact that Lincoln College, of which John Wesley was a 
( Resident Fellow, stands within fifty yards of Exeter College. 
IRomaine also was at Christ Church at the same time. But 
"here is not the slightest proof that Walker was acquainted 
kvith any of these good men. 

I Walker entered the ministry at the age of twenty-three, in 
;he year 1737. He was first curate of Dodescomb Leigh, near 
5 Exeter, but only remained there one year. He then travelled 
)n the Continent for two years, in the capacity of private tutor 
o the younger brother of Lord Rolle. On the termination of 
his engagement he became first curate, and immediately after 
'icar, of Lanlivery, near Lostwithiel, in Cornwall. He only 
neld this living during the minority of a nephew of the patron* 



3io BECOMES CURATE OF TRURO. 

and finally resigned it in the year 1746. He then accepted 
the office of stipendiary curate of Truro, in Cornwall, and 
occupied that position for fifteen years, until the time of his 
death in 1761. 

It is past all doubt that Walker was profoundly ignorant of 
spiritual religion at the time of his ordination. Like hundreds 
of clergymen, he undertook an office for which he was certainly 
not " inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost," and professed him- 
self a teacher of others while he himself knew nothing of the 
truth as it is in Jesus. He says, in a letter dated 1756: "The 
week before my ordination I spent with the other candidates 
— as dissolute, I fear, as myself — in a very light and unbecom- 
ing manner; dining, supping, drinking, and laughing together, 
when, God knows, we should all have been on our knees, and 
warning each other to fear for our souls in the view of what we 
were about to put our hands to. I cannot but attribute the 
many careless, ungodly years I spent in pleasure after that time 
to this profane introduction ; and, believe me, the review shocks 
me. While I write, I tremble in the recollection of the wounds 
I then gave Jesus." 

In this painful and unsatisfactory state of mind Walker spent 
the first two years of his ministerial life. Throughout that time 
he was diligent and conscientious in the discharge of the 
outward duties of his office. He preached, visited, catechised, 
reproved, exhorted, and rebuked, but did no good at all. 
Ignorant alike of his own heart's disease and of the glorious 
remedy provided by Christ's gospel, he laboured entirely in vain. 
In fact, he said himself, in after-years, " that though he was well 
thought of, and, indeed, esteemed beyond most of his brethren 
for regularity, decency, and endeavour to keep up external 
attendance, and even for his public addresses, yet he felt he 
ought to go sorrowing to the grave, upon a review of the years 
so misspent." 

The circumstances under which a complete change came 



A CCO UNT OF HIS CONVERSION. 3 1 1 

over Walker's heart, character, and ministerial lite, were ver) 
remarkable. They supply a most instructive illustration of 
God's plan of leading people to Christ by ways " which they 
know not." Walker had come to Truro in 1746, with peculiar 
pleasure, on account of the notorious gaieties and festivities of 
the place, in which the young curate at that time took great 
delight. He entered the place a dancing, card-playing, party- 
going clergyman, and was known only in that character for the 
first twelve months of his ministry. It is said that at this period 
" his only ambition was to be courted for his gaiety and admired 
for his eloquence, and to become the reformer of the vicious by 
the power of persuasion and example." Ignorant he was not 
altogether, for, like every well-read man, he had historical no- 
tions of the leading doctrines of the Christian religion. But, to 
use his own words, " what he knew notionally, he neither felt 
nor sought practically." He acknowledges that, even in the 
midst of all his official decorum, he " was actuated by two hid- 
den principles, as contrary to God as darkness is to light — a 
desire of reputation and a love of pleasure." Such were the 
beginnings of Walker's ministry ! Such was the unpromising 
material which God was pleased to take in hand, and mould and 
fashion into a goodly vessel of grace ! 

The manner of Walker's conversion is thus described by one 
of his biographers. " He had been at least a year in his curacy 
at Truro before he fell under any suspicion or uneasiness about 
himself or his preaching. The first impression that he was in 
error arose from a conversation between himself and a few of 
his parishioners on the subject of justifying and saving faith, to 
which he was judiciously led by a pious individual. This was a 
Mr. Conon, master of the Grammar School at Truro, who, he 
often said, was the first person he had ever met truly possessed 
of the mind of Christ, and by whose means he became sensible 
that all was wrong within and without." Mr. Conon was one 
of those rare servants of God who, like Job, are found in places 



3 12 PREACHES THE GOSPEL. 

where you would think no good thing could grow, and who serve 
to show that grace and not place makes the Christian. Inter- 
course between this good man and the curate of Truro gradually 
ripened into intimacy, and the result was the total conversion of 
the minister through the pious instrumentality of one of his 
hearers. 

The change that had come over the curate of Truro was soon 
apparent, both in his preaching and practice. It could not be 
hid. He ceased to take part in the frivolous worldly amuse- 
ments which at one time absorbed his attention. He frankly 
acknowledges that he did not take up this new line of action 
without a mighty inward struggle, and that it was " long before 
he could bring himself to any reasonable measure of indifference 
about the esteem of the world, and then only with heart-felt 
pangs of fear and disquietude." But he fought hard, and by 
God's grace was more than conqueror. At the same time, says 
his biographer, " he began to preach as he felt, declared the 
alteration in his views, and faithfully pointed out the evil of the 
empty pleasures in which the inhabitants of his parish were 
absorbed, and the danger of resting on the mere formalities of 
Sabbath worship for salvation. Repentance, faith, and the new 
birth became the topics of his sermons — truths which, though 
treated with all the power of his highly cultivated mind, brought 
down on him hatred as an enthusiast, derision as a madman, 
and vehement opposition as the destroyer of harmless joys. An 
infidel went even so far as to insult him in the pulpit, an affront 
which he bore with singular patience and dignity." 

The effects of Walker's new style of preaching seem to have 
been very deep and extraordinary. Astonishment and surprise 
were the first prevailing feelings in the minds of all. To hear 
their curate denouncing the very practices in which he had 
lately indulged himself, and pressing home the very doctrines 
which he had neglected or despised, was enough to make men's 
hair stand on end ! Anger and irritation were naturally excited 



EFFECT OF HIS PRE A CUING. 3 13 

in the hearts of hundreds who loved pleasure more than God, 
and were determined to cling to the world. But all alike seem 
to have been thoroughly aroused and impressed. His biographer 
says : " The earnestness of the preacher, and the striking altera- 
tion of his habits as well as of his sermons, stirred up the curio- 
sity of the people, who, while they were enraged at the fidelity, 
were enchained by the eloquence and trembled at the sternness 
of their reprover. Even out of the pulpit they feared the pre- 
sence of their minister. The Sabbath loiterers would retire at 
his approach, saying, ' Let us go ; here comes Walker.' His 
manner is said to have been commanding and 'solemn in the 
extreme, and his life so truly consistent that at length he awed 
into silence those who were at first most clamorous against 
him. At last such crowds attended his ministry, that the 
thoroughfares of the town seemed to be deserted during the 
hours of service, so that it was said you might fire a cannon 
down every street of Truro in church time, without a chance 
of killing a single human being." 

No well-informed Christian will be surprised to hear that a 
man preaching and living as Walker did, was assailed by every 
kind of persecution. The great enemy of souls will never allow 
his kingdom to be pulled down without a struggle to preserve 
it. If he cannot prevent a faithful minister working, he will 
labour in every way to hinder and impede his work. The 
worldly portion of the Truro people resolved to get rid of a 
man who pricked their consciences and made them uncomfort- 
able. They first tried to injure the curate of Truro with the 
bishop of the diocese ; but in this attempt, happily, they failed. 
They then endeavoured to prevail on the rector of Truro to dis- 
miss him from his cure, a move which led to the following 
remarkable result. His biographer says : " Mr. Walker's 
enemies, being some of the wealthiest inhabitants of Truro, 
found the rector only too willing to listen to their complaints, 
and he promised that he would go to his curate and give him 



3H THE CURATE AND THE RECTOR. 

notice to quit his charge. He went ; but like the Gaul who was 
sent to the Roman hero to despatch him in prison, he retired 
startled and abashed at his lofty tone and high bearing. On 
entering Walker's apartment, he was received with an elegance 
and dignity of manner which were natural to one who had long 
been the charm of society, and became so embarrassed as to be 
perfectly unable to advert to his errand. He at length made 
some remark which afforded an opportunity of speaking of the 
ministerial office and character, which Walker immediately 
embraced, and enlarged on the subject with such acuteness of 
reasoning and solemnity of appeal to his rector, as a fellow- 
labourer in the gospel, that he retreated overwhelmed with con- 
fusion, and unable to say a word about the intended dismissal. 
He was in consequence reproached with a breach of his pro- 
mise, and went a second time to fulfil it. He again retreated 
without daring to allude to the object of his visit. He was 
pressed to go a third time by one of his principal parishioners, 
but replied, ' Do you go and dismiss him, if you can ; I cannot. 
I feel in his presence as if he were a being of superior order, 
and I am so abashed that I am uneasy till I can retire/ A 
short time after this the rector was taken ill, when he sent for 
Mr. Walker, entreated his prayers, acknowledged the propriety 
of his conduct, and promised him his hearty support if he re- 
covered." From this time to the end of his ministry, no weapon 
formed against the curate of Truro seemed to prosper. He 
held on his way without let or hindrance, though not, of course, 
without much hatred, opposition, and petty persecution. But 
nothing that his opponents could do, or devise, was able to stop 
or silence him. So true is that word of Scripture : " When a 
man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be 
at peace with him" (Pro v. xvi. 7). 

There can be no doubt that Walker's position at Truro was 
greatly strengthened by his eminent holiness, self-denial, and 
consistency of life. Whatever his enemies thought of his preach- 



SELF-DENIAL AND HOL Y LIFE. 3 1 5 

ing, they could not deny that he was a singularly holy man. 
Like Daniel, they could find no fault in him except concerning 
the law of his God. Two remarkable instances of his self- 
denial and disinterestedness deserve special mention. One is 
his voluntary resignation of the vicarage of Talland, to which he 
had been appointed about the time of his coming to Truro, with 
the bishop's license of non-residence. On becoming a con- 
verted man, his conscience told him that ne ought not to receive 
an income for which he discharged no ministerial duty. Acting 
on this principle, he cheerfully gave up the preferment unasked 
and unpersuaded, relinquished all his accustomed comforts, and 
went into humble lodgings of the plainest kind. The other 
instance is even more singular. ,He refused the opportunity of 
marrying a lady eminently suited to be his wife, who would 
have readily accepted his hand, on the sole ground that she had 
too much fortune. To a friend who seriously advised him to 
propose to her, he made the following remarkable reply : " I cer- 
tainly never saw a woman whom I thought comparable to Miss 

, and I believe I should enjoy as much happiness in union 

with her as it is possible to enjoy in this world. I have reason 
also to think that she would not reject my suit. Still it must 
never be ! What would the world say of me 1 Would not they 
imagine that the hope of obtaining such a prize influenced my 
profession of religion 1 It is easy, they would say, to preach 
self-denial and heavenly-mindedness, but has not the preacher 
taken care to get as much of this world's good as he could 
possibly obtain 1 It must never be ! I can never suffer any 
temporal happiness or advantage to be a hindrance to my use- 
fulness." Conscientiousness like this is certainly very rare, and 
to many persons may seem totally incomprehensible and absurd. 
Whether, also, in Walker's behaviour to the lady, there 
was not something of morbid scrupulosity, and whether a happy 
marriage might not have lengthened his life and usefulness, are 
questions which admit of doubt. But there is no denying that 



3 r 6 RESUL TS OF HIS MINISTR V. 

not a few evangelical ministers have withered their own useful- 
ness by marrying wealthy wives. And one thing is very certain, 
that Walker's character for eminent disinterestedness and un- 
worldliness became so thoroughly established, that in this 
material point the breath of slander never touched him to the 
very end of his days. 

The direct visible effects of Walker's ministry at Truro were 
very remarkable and extensive. Worldliness and wickedness 
were checked to an extraordinary extent, and even those who 
loved sin were ashamed to commit it so openly as they had 
done in time past. Not long after he began to preach the real 
gospel and to call men to repentance, the theatre and cockpit 
in the town were both forsaken, and given up to other pur- 
poses ; and similar reforms extended to places in the neighbour- 
hood through his instrumentality. The influence of his ministry, 
in fact, was singularly felt by many who were never converted. 
He said himself that he had reason to think almost all his 
hearers at Truro were, at one time or other, awakened more or 
less, " although I fear many of them have rejected the counsel 
of God against themselves." ' 

Of positive spiritual results in the saving of souls by any one's 
ministry, a wise man will always speak cautiously. We see 
through a glass darkly, and are easily deceived in such matters. 
Yet I see every reason to believe that Walker's ministry at 
Truro was really the means of turning hundreds from darkness 
to light, and from the power of Satan unto God. It is a certain 
fact that in 1754, after he had preached the gospel only seven 
years at Truro, he recorded that no less than eight hundred 
persons had made particular application to him, from time to 
time, inquiring what they must do to be saved. Making every 
allowance for many of this number who doubtless drew back 
after their first convictions, and returned to their sins, this simple 
fact ought to fill our minds with astonishment. The parish of 
Truro, even at this day, does not contain more than ten thou- 



REMARKABLE EFFECT ON SOLDIERS. 317 

sand people. A hundred years ago it must have been a much 
smaller place. The ministry which in seven years could arrest 
the attention of eight hundred persons in such a parish, must 
have been one of singular power, and singularly blessed of 
God. 

One of the most interesting examples of his ministerial suc- 
cess was the extraordinary effect that he produced on a regi- 
ment of soldiers which was quartered in Truro in 1756. As 
soon as they arrived, Walker set up a sermon for their special 
benefit on Sunday afternoon, which was called " the soldiers' 
sermon." After a little time the number of attendants became 
very large ; and the mere fact that it was a voluntary service, 
specially intended for soldiers, no doubt helped greatly to bring 
hearers. The attention of the men was thoroughly arrested, 
and within three weeks no less than a hundred of them came to 
Walker's house, asking what they must do to be saved. He 
himself says to a correspondent : " The effects of the soldiers' 
sermon have been very striking. You would have seen their 
countenances changing, tears often bursting from their eyes, and 
confessions of their exceeding sinfulness and danger breaking 
from their mouths. I have, scarcely heard such a thing as self- 
excusing from any of them • while the desire to be instructed, 
and uncommon thankfulness for any pains for them used by any 
of us, have been very remarkable." 

His biographer says : " Mr. Walker's exertions in the regi- 
ment at first met with great opposition. The commander 
publicly forbade his men to go to him for private instruction, 
though, at last, no less than two hundred and fifty of them 
sought the persevering servant of Christ for that purpose. 
Those also whom religion had separated from the sinful habits 
and company of their unawakened comrades, were much 
derided ; but grace enabled them to stand. A great alteration, 
however, soon took place. Punishment diminished, and order 
prevailed in the regiment, to a degree never before witnessed ; 



318 AN AFFECTING FAREWELL. 

and at length the commander discovered the excellent cause of 
this salutary change. Genuine zeal had now its full triumph 
and rich reward. The officers waited on Mr. Walker in a 
body, to acknowledge the good effects of his wise and sedulous 
exertions, and to thank him for the reformation he had pro- 
duced in their ranks." 

" These interesting men left Truro after nine weeks' stay. 
The parting scene was indescribably affecting. They assembled 
the last evening in the society-room, to hear their beloved 
minister's farewell prayer and exhortation. ' Had you,' said 
Walker to a friend, ' but seen their countenances, what thank- 
fulness, love, sorrow, and joy sat upon them ! They hoped 
they might bring forth some fruit ; they hoped to meet us again 
at the right hand of Jesus at the great day.' It was an hour of 
mingled distress and comfort ; the hearts of many were so full, 
that they clasped the hand of the beloved instrument of their 
conversion, and turned away without a word. They began 
their morning march praising God for having brought them 
under the sound of the gospel ; and as they slowly passed 
along, turned round to catch occasional glimpses of the town, 
as it gradually receded from their sight, exclaiming, ' God bless 
Truro !' They saw their spiritual leader no more upon earth, 
but were consoled by the hope of a triumphant meeting 
amongst the armies of heaven." 

One grand peculiarity of Walker's ministry at Truro was the 
system of private meetings for mutual edification among the 
spiritual members of his congregation, which he succeeded in 
instituting. He seems to have been deeply impressed with the 
necessity of following up the work done in the pulpit, and with 
the desirableness of stirring up real Christians to be useful to 
one another. There can be no doubt that he was right. ' Edify 
one another,' is an apostolic principle far too much overlooked 
(i Thess. v. n). Most Christians are far too ready to leave 
everything to be done by their minister, and forget that a 



PRIVATE UNITY MEETINGS. 319 

minister has only one body and one tongue, and cannot be 
everywhere, and do everything. Above all, most Christians 
forget that the mutual conference of believers is a valuable 
means of grace, and that in trying to water others we are likely 
to be watered ourselves. But the best and wisest manner of 
conducting these meetings for mutual edification is a subject 
of vast difficulty, and one on which good men differ widely. 
Scores of excellent ministers have attempted to do something 
in this direction, and have completely failed. It was precisely 
here that Walker seems to have been eminently gifted, and to 
have obtained extraordinary success. 

My limited space makes it quite impossible to give a full 
account of all the plans and arrangements that Walker made 
for the conduct of these religious societies. Those who wish 
to know more about them will find them fully described in 
Sidney's " Life of Walker." One leading feature of his system 
deserves, however, to be specially noticed : I mean his careful 
classification of the members of his societies. He always 
formed them into two divisions, one composed entirely of 
men, into which no female was admitted ; the other of mar- 
ried men, their wives, and unmarried women, from which all 
single men were excluded. The wisdom and good sense of 
this classification will be obvious to every reflecting Christian. 
It is the very neglect of it, however simple it may appear, 
which has been the ruin of many similar private movements 
among religious people. The rules drawn up for the manage- 
ment of meetings are marked throughout by like soundness of 
judgment. The objects to be kept steadily in view — the admis- 
sion of members, the hours to be kept, the mode of proceeding, 
the things to be habitually avoided by members — are all most 
carefully defined, and give one a most favourable idea of 
Walker's rare Christian good sense. I have only room to quote 
two rules, which are a good specimen of the tone and spirit 
running through all the regulations. 



S 2 ° RULES OF THE SOCIETY. 

One rule is : " That every member of this Society do esteem 
himself peculiarly obliged to live in an inoffensive and orderly 
manner, to the glory of God and the edification of his neigh- 
bours ; that he study to advance, in himself and others, humility 
and meekness, faith in Christ, love to God, gospel repentance, 
and new obedience,, in which things Christian edification con- 
sists, and not in vain j anglings. And that in all his conversa- 
tion and articles of faith he stick close to the plain and divine 
meaning of Holy Scripture, carefully avoiding all intricate niceties 
and refinements upon it." 

The other rule, or rather explanatory definition, is : " By a 
lisorderly carriage we mean not only the commission of gross 
and scandalous sins, but also what are esteemed matters of 
little moment in the eyes of the world, such as the light use of 
the words, Lord, God, Jesus, &c, in ordinary conversation, which 
we cannot but interpret as an evidence of the want of God's 
presence in the heart ; the buying and selling of goods which 
have not paid custom ; the doing needless work on the Lord's 
day ; the frequenting ale-houses or taverns without necessary 
business. And considering the consequence of vain amuse- 
ments so generally practised, we do, in charity to the souls of 
others, as well as to avoid the danger of such things ourselves, 
think ourselves obliged to use particular caution about many of 
them, however innocent they may be in themselves, such as 
cards, dancings, clubs for entertainments, play-houses, sports at 
festivals and parish feasts, and as much as may be parish feasts 
themselves, lest by joining therein we are a hindrance to our- 
selves and others." This is sound speech that cannot be con- 
demned. Regulations such as these need no comment. What- 
ever objections may be made against private societies such as 
Walker formed at Truro, as tending to create a church within a 
church, one thing at least is sure — A system which produced 
such a high standard of life and practice in the members of the 
Society, deserves serious consideration. 



HIS DEATH. 321 

Walker's most useful career was brought to a termination in 
the year 1761. He died at the early age of forty-seven, of pul- 
monary consumption, accelerated, if not brought on, by his 
over-abundant labours in the cause of Christ at Truro. It is 
impossible to wonder at his breaking down at a comparatively 
early age, when we consider the immense amount of ministerial 
labour which he regularly carried on, single-handed and unas- 
sisted, for nearly fourteen years, in his large Cornish parish. 
He says himself, in a letter dated 1755 : " My stated business 
(beside the Sunday duty, prayers Wednesdays and Fridays, 
burials, baptisms, and attendance on the sick) is, on Mondays, 
Wednesdays, and Fridays, to talk with such as apply to me in 
private from six to ten in the evening ; Tuesday, to attend the 
society ; and Thursday, a lecture in church in the evening. 
Saturday, and as much of Friday as I can give, is bestowed in 
preparing the Sunday's sermons. To all this must be added 
what I may well call the care of the church, that is, of above a 
hundred people, who, on one account and another, continually 
need my direction. You will not wonder if my strength proves 
unequal to this labour, and I find myself debilitated, and under 
necessity of making my time shorter by lying in bed longer 
than formerly. In short, what I am going through seems evi- 
dently to be hastening my end, though there be no immediate 
danger." The plain truth is, that so far from wondering that 
such a man died so soon, we should rather wonder that he 
worked and lived so long. 

He died at Blackheath, near London, after a long and suffer- 
ing illness of more than a years duration, in which he received 
every attention that could be bestowed on his poor earthly 
tabernacle from the kindness of Lord Dartmouth. He died in 
the full enjoyment of the peace he had so faithfully preached 
to others, and his death-bed was without a cloud. He had 
never married, and, like Berridge, had neither brother, sister, 
nor near relative to stand by him as he went down into the 

(195) OX 



322 TOUCHING LETTER TO MR. CONON. 

river. But he had that which is far better than earthly relatives, 
the strong consolation of a lively hope, and the presence of 
that Saviour who " sticketh closer than a brother," and who has 
said, " I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." 

The following letter, written on his death-bed to his beloved 
friend Mr. Conon, only a fortnight before he died, gives a most 
pleasing impression of Walker's happy frame of mind in the 
prospect of eternity. He says : — 

" My dearest, most faithful friend, — My disorder, though by 
no means affording the least prospect of recovery, yet seems to 
affect me at present more with weakness than with that violent 
heat which rendered me incapable of thought. I can now, 
blessed be God, think a little ; and with what comfort do I 
both receive your thoughts and communicate mine to you ! 
Oh, my dear friend, what do we owe to the Lord for one 
another ! More than I could have conceived, had not God sent 
me to die elsewhere. We shall have time to praise the Lord, 
when we meet in the other world. I stand and look upon that 
world with an established heart. I see the way prepared, 
opened, and assured unto me in Jesus Christ. For ever blessed 
be the name of God, that I can look upon death, that intro- 
duces that glorious scene, without any kind of fear. I find my 
grand duty still is submission, both as to time and circum- 
stances. Why should I not say to you that I find nothing 
come so near my heart, as the fear lest my will should thwart 
God's will in any circumstances 1 Thus, I think, I am enabled 
to watch and pray in some poor measure. Well, my dear 
friend, I am but stepping a little before you. You will soon 
also get your release, and then we shall triumph for ever in the 
name, love, and power of the Lamb. Adieu ! Yours in the 
Lord Jesus Christ for ever. Amen." 

The above touching letter was probably the last that Walker 
wrote. One week later, Mr. Burnet, a dear and valued friend 
both of Walker's and Venn's, gave the following account of him 



VISIT OF MR. B URNE T. 323 

in a letter to a friend. He says : " On Saturday, the nth July, 
I reached Mr. Walker's lodging at Blackheath. There I saw 
the dear man lying on his bed of sickness, pining away in the 
last stage of consumption, burnt up with raging fever, and 
wasted almost to a skeleton. He was perfectly sensible, and 
so was able to express himself much to our satisfaction. The 
first thing which struck me exceedingly was his patient submis- • 
sion under God's hand, and his thankful tender concern for all 
those who were near to him. So little was his mind engaged 
with things' merely pertaining to himself, that in the smallest 
things concerning my own convenience and comfort he behaved 
as if I had been the sick person. He said he had been uneasy, 
at the beginning of his sickness, at the want of sensible frames 
of feeling, but was relieved by that Scripture, ' They that wor- 
ship God must worship him in spirit,' with the noble powers of 
the soul ; and that he now found experimentally the worship of 
God's Spirit on his heart in a degree he. had never before 
experienced. ' I am now enabled,' he said, ' to see when it was 
that the Lord Jesus first laid effectual hold of my heart, which 
I was never able to discover before. I have a perfect satisfac- 
tion in the principles I have preached, and the methods I have 
generally taken. I have no doubt respecting my state in Christ, 
or my future glory. Behold, I am going down to the gates of 
the grave, and holy angels wait for me. Why do you trouble 
yourselves, and weep 1 ? Cannot you rejoice with me? I am 
going to heaven. Christ died : my Lord ! Oh, had I strength 
to express myself, I could tell you enough to make your hearts 
weep for joy/ God is all love to me, and my trials are very 
slight.'" 

On Tuesday, July the 14th-, Walker dictated the following 
words to Mr. Conon : " My dearest Friend, — -With great con- 
fusion of thought, I have no doubts, great confidence, great 
submission, no complaining. As to actual views of the joys 
that are coming, I have none ; but a steadfast belief of them 



324 HIS LITERARY REMAINS. 

in Christ." The same day, when one sitting by his bedside 
observed that his soul was ripe for heaven and eternity, he 
interrupted him by saying, u that the body of sin was not yet 
done away, but that he should continue a sinner to the last 
gasp, and desired that he would pray for him as such." 

On Sunday, July the 19th, in the same happy and peaceful 
frame of mind, the holy curate of Truro fell asleep in Christ, 
and went home. " Let me die the death of the righteous, and 
let my last end be like his." 

Walker's literary remains are not many, but they deserve far 
more attention than many writings of the period when he lived. 
His " Lectures on the Church Catechism," his " Nine Sermons 
on the Covenant of Grace," and his eleven sermons entitled 
" The Christian," are all excellent books, and ought to be 
better known and more read than they are in the present day. 
His sermons give me a most favourable impression of his 
powers as a preacher. For simplicity, directness, vivacity, and 
home appeals to the heart and conscience, I am disposed to 
assign them a very high rank among the sermons of a hundred 
years ago. It is my deliberate impression, that if he had been 
an itinerant like Whitefield, and had not confined himself to his 
pulpit at Truro, he would probably have been reckoned one 
of the best preachers of his day. 

The following extract from the last sermon preached by 
Walker at Truro is not only interesting in itself, but is also a 
very fair specimen of his style of preaching. The subject was 
the second coming of Christ to judge the quick and the dead. 
He said at the conclusion : " Can I think of this day, so 
honourable to him whom my soul loveth, without longing and 
wishing for its appearing 1 When I consider that his people 
shall partake with him in the glories of that day, and hear him 
say those ravishing words never to be recalled, ' Come, ye 
blessed of my father,' can I do other than say, ' Come, Lord 
Jesus, come quickly?' Surely I should rejoice to see and be 



WA LKER'S LAST SERMOM. 325 

for ever with the Lord ; to behold his beauty as the express 
image of his father's person ; to contemplate with endless and 
insatiable transport the glory which the Father hath given him ; 
to make my acknowledgment, amid the praises of heaven, 
among the multitude which no man can number, as saved, for 

1 ever saved, by his love and care, his power and grace. What ! 

1 when the least beam of his glory let in upon my soul now turns 
my earth into heaven, and makes me cry out with Peter, ' It is 
good for us to be here,' can I wish to delay his coming % When, 
remaining in this vale of misery, I groan under corruptions, and 
am burdened with a corruptible body, can I say, ' This is better 
than to be fashioned in soul and body like unto the Lord V 
When I find here nothing but vanity and vexation of spirit, 
shall I be averse to the Lord's coming to change my sorrows 
into joy unspeakable and full of glory % Here, beset as I am 
with enemies, would I not long for that blessed day when I 
shall see them again no more for ever 1 ? And would I not be 
glad to be taken from a world lying in wickedness, into that 
new heaven and earth wherein dwelleth righteousness % I know 
that my redeemer liveth. I know that he shall stand at the 
latter day upon the earth. I have a humble confidence that he 
will own me among the children. And shall I, like those who 
know no better joys than this world can afford them, are ignor- 
ant of a Redeemer's righteousness, and lie under the uncon- 
scious guilt of unnumbered and unpardoned sin — shall I, like 
them, cleave to this base life as my all for happiness, and not 
wait, and wish, and long for the day of my Master's glorious 
appearing 1 No ! I will not abide in that low measure of faith, 
which only begets a hope that I may be well when the Lord 
comes, but knows not what it is to love the day of his appear- 
ing. My endeavour shall be to be strong in the faith, and 
abounding in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost, always 
fruitful in good works, and hasting unto the day of the Lord. 
"As for you, my dear hearers, I am grieved at heart for 



326 WALKER'S LAST SERMON. 

many, very many of you, to think how you will make your 
appearance before Christ's judgment-seat. You have no works 
to speak there for your belonging to Christ.; I can see none. 
I see works of various kinds that prove you do not belong to 
him. If a life of pleasure, idleness, indulgence, drunkenness, 
pride, covetousness, would recommend you to the favour of the 
Judge, few would be better received than numbers of you ! In 
the name of God, my friends, when you know this moment in 
your own consciences that if, as you have been and are, you 
should be called to judgment, you would be surely cast into 
hell, why will you live at such a rate 1 Well ! we shall all 
be soon before the judgment-seat of Christ. There the con- 
troversy between me, persuading you by the terrors of the 
Lord to repent, and you, determined to abide in your sins, will 
be decided. There it will appear whether your blood will be 
upon your own heads for your obstinate impenitences, or upon 
mine for not giving you warning. Christ will certainly either 
acquit or condemn me on this account ; and if I should be 
acquitted, what will become of you 1 I tremble to think how 
many words of mine will be brought up against you on that day. 
What will you say, what will you answer, how will you excuse 
yourselves 1 Oh, sirs, if you will not be prevailed upon, you 
will, with eternal self-reproach, curse the day that you knew me, 
or heard one word from my mouth. Why, why will ye die with 
so aggravated a destruction ? May the Lord incline you to 
think ! May he cause this word to sink deep into your hearts ! 
May he show you all your dangers, and with an outstretched 
arm bring you out of the hands of the devil, and translate you 
into the kingdom of his dear Son." 

The letters which Mr. Sidney has collected in his biography 
of Walker are all interesting, especially those addressed to the 
two Wesleys, and to Mr. Adam -of Winteringham, author of 
" Private Thoughts upon Religion." Indeed, the whole book is 
valuable. I only regret that the author should have thought it 



HIS BIOGRAPHY. 327 

necessary to elaborate so carefully his favourite idea, that Mr. 
Walker was a sound Churchman and not a Dissenter. It may 
be perfectly true, no doubt. But it is too often pressed and 
thrust upon our notice. Walker lived in a day when the very 
existence of Christianity in England was at stake, and when the 
main business of true-hearted Christians was to preserve the 
very foundations of revealed religion from being swept away. 
To my eyes, Walker's thorough Christianity is a far more con- 
spicuous object than his Churchmanship. 

After all, I leave the subject of this chapter with a very deep 
conviction that we know comparatively very little about Walker. 
The half of his work, I suspect, has never yet been recorded. 
He lived near the Land's End. He seldom left his own parish. 
His life was never fully written till fifty or sixty years after he 
was dead. What wonder, then, if we know but little of the 
man ! Yet I venture the surmise that in the last day, when the 
secrets of all ministries shall be disclosed, few will be found to 
have done better work for Christ in their day and generation 
than Walker of Truro. 




XL 

Jfanws Jp.erb.ejj jof KHestott Jfabell, antr Ijb 

Born near Northampton, 1713 — Educated at Lincoln College, Oxford — Intimacy with 
John Wesley — Ordained, 1736 — Curate of Dummer, 1738; of Bideford, 1740; and of 
Weston Favell, 1743 — Early Religious History — Correspondence with Whitefield — 
Studious Habit at Weston Favell — Literary Remains Analyzed — Correspondence — 
Humour — Private Life — Charity — Self-denial — Died, 1758 — Testimony of Romaine, 
Venn, Cowper, Cecil, Bickersteth, and Daniel Wilson. 

[HERE is a striking chapter in the Book of Judges, in 
which Deborah and Barak sing a triumphal hymn 
after the defeat of the hosts of Sisera. In one part 
of this hymn they recount the names of the tribes who came 
forward most readily to do battle for the freedom of Israel. 
Some of the tribes are mentioned in high praise. Others are 
dismissed with expressions of reproach. None are so much 
commended as Zebulun and Naphtali. They were " a people 
who jeoparded their lives unto the death in the high places of 
the field." But a sentence is used in the account of Zebulun, 
which deserves special notice : " Out of Zebulun," it is said, 
"came down they that handle the pen of the writer" (Judges 
v. 14). 

The expression is a strange one. It cannot be denied that 
the meaning of it is involved in some obscurity. There is 
some probability in the conjecture of those who think it signi- 
fies scribes, who mustered the levies of Zebulun, and wrote 
down the names of those who went to war (compare Jer. 



BIR TH OF J A MES HER VEY. 329 

lii. 25). But be the precise meaning what it may, one thing is 
abundantly clear. The zeal of Zebulun in God's cause was 
such that, among her warriors in the day of battle, there were 
some who were more accustomed to wield the pen than the 
sword. When God's work was to be done, the soldier and the 
writer stood shoulder to shoulder, and side by side. 

The expression has often recurred to my mind of late, in 
studying the history of English religion a hundred years ago. 
I am struck with the variety of instruments which God em- 
ployed in carrying on the great revival of Christianity which 
then took place. I see some men who were mighty with the 
tongue, and bowed the hearts of assemblies by their preaching, 
as the trees of the wood are bowed by the wind. I see others 
who were mighty in government, and skilful in organizing, direct- 
ing, methodizing, and administering. But, besides these, I see 
others who were mighty with the pen, and did work for Christ as 
real and lasting as any of their contemporaries. They made no 
public show. They did not cry, or strive, or let their voice be 
heard in the street. But they laboured in their way most 
effectually for the advancement of pure evangelical religion. 
They reached minds which were never brought under the in- 
fluence of Whitefield, Wesley, or Romaine. They produced 
results in many quarters which will never be fully known till 
the judgment day. Foremost, perhaps, in this class of men in 
the last century, was the subject of my present paper, James 
Hervey of Weston Favell, the author of " Theron and Aspasio." 

James Hervey was born on February 26, 17 13, at Harding- 
stone, near Northampton. His father was rector of the neigh- 
bouring parishes of Collingtree and Weston Favell, but appears 
for some reason to have resided out of his parish. About his 
parents I can find no certain information, either as to their 
religious opinions or their practice. The parishes of which his 
father was rector are small rural places, very near the town of 
Northampton, on the south-eastern side. The date of his birth 



33° EDUCA TED A T LINCOLN COLLEGE. 

deserves notice on one account. It shows that he was one of 
the little band whom God sent into the world at a special time, 
to do a special work together in England. Whitefield, Wesley, 
Grimshaw, Berridge, Rowlands, Romaine, Venn, Walker, and 
Hervey, were all born in the first twenty years of the eighteenth 
century, between 1700 and 1720. 

The facts and events of Hervey's life are singularly few. ' He 
was educated at the Grammar School of Northampton, and 
remained there from the time he was seven years old till he 
was seventeen. Two things only are recorded about his school- 
boy life. One is, that he was very skilful and dexterous in all 
games and recreations. The other is, that he made great pro- 
gress in Latin and Greek, and would have got on even faster 
than he did, if his schoolmaster had allowed him. But it 
appears that this worthy pedagogue made it a rule never to allow 
any of his pupils to learn quicker than his own son ! The 
fiction of " Do-the-boys Hall," it may be feared, is built on a 
very broad foundation of facts. Obscure Yorkshire schools 
are not the only academies where little boys are victimized 
and unfairly used. 

In the year 1731, Hervey was sent to Oxford, and entered 
at Lincoln College. The first two years of his University life 
appear to have been spent in idleness. Like many young men, 
he suffered much from the want of some wise friend to advise 
and direct him in his studies. In 1733, however, he became 
acquainted with the two Wesleys, Whitefield, Ingham, and 
other steady young men, and derived great benefit from their 
society. Under their influence and example, he began a steady 
course of reading, and made himself master of such books as 
" Derham's Astro-Theology," " Ray's Wisdom of God in Crea- 
tion," and other works of a similar kind. He also commenced 
the study of the Hebrew language. Nor was this all. He 
began to follow his new companions in their efforts to attain 
and promote a high standard of religion. Like them, he began 



IN TIM A CY WITH J OHN WES IE Y. 3 3 1 

to live by method, received the communion every Sabbath, 
visited the sick and the prisoners in jail, and read to poor 
people. The last three years of his Oxford life were thus use- 
fully employed, and the result was that he left the University, 
in 1736, with a good foundation of steady habits of living, and 
with a very fair amount of knowledge and scholarship. His 
literary remains, indeed, supply abundant proof that, consider- 
ing the times he lived in, he was a well-read and well-educated 
man. 

No one seems to have been more useful to Hervey, at this 
period of his life, than John Wesley. At a later date, after 
doctrinal differences had separated the two men, the Rector of 
Weston Favell bore grateful and honourable testimony to this 
fact. He says,. in one of his letters : "I heartily thank you, as 
for all other favours, so especially for teaching me Hebrew. I 
have cultivated this study, according to your advice. I can 
never forget that tender-hearted and generous Fellow of 
Lincoln, who condescended to take such compassionate notice 
of a poor undergraduate, whom almost everybody contemned, 
and whose soul no man cared for." Happy is that college 
where Fellows show kindness to undergraduates, and do not 
neglect them ! Attentions of this kind cost little ; but they are 
worth much, gain influence, and bear fruit after many days. 

In the year 1736, Hervey was ordained a minister by Dr. 
Potter, Bishop of Oxford, and in 1736 became curate to his 
father at Weston Favell. He seems to have filled this position 
for a very short time. In 1738, we find him Curate of Dum- 
mer, near Basingstoke, in Hampshire, a position, singularly 
enough, which Whitefield had also occupied about the same 
year. In 1740, he removed to Bideford, in North Devonshire, 
and remained there till August 1743. He then returned to 
Weston Favell, and became once more curate to his father. 
This was his last move. On the death of his father, in 1752, 
he succeeded him as Rector of Weston Favell and Collinetree. 



33 2 EARL Y RELIGIOUS HIS TOR Y. 

but only survived him six years. He finally died, at Weston 
Fa veil, on Christmas-day 1758, of pulmonary consumption, at 
the comparatively early age of forty-five. Unlike most ministers, 
he preached the gospel amongst the people who had known 
him from his earliest infancy, and was buried within a very few 
miles from the place where he had been born. In life and 
death he " dwelt among his own people." 

The spiritual history of Hervey presents several interesting 
features. I can find no evidence that he knew anything of 
vital religion when he was a boy or a young man. Though 
mercifully kept from the excess of riot and immorality into 
which the young frequently run, he seems to have been utterly 
careless and thoughtless about his soul The beginning of a 
work of grace in his heart may undoubtedly be traced to his resi- 
dence at Oxford, and his intercourse with Wesley and Whitefield, 
which he commenced at the age of twenty. Yet even then he 
seems to have been much in the dark for some years, and to 
have been comparatively ignorant of the distinctive doctrines 
of real Christianity. His college friends, it must be admitted, 
knew little more than he did. Their early struggles after Hght 
were made through a fog of mysticism and asceticism which 
impeded their course for years. The freeness and simplicity of 
the gospel, the finished work of Christ on the cross, the real 
meaning of justification by faith without the deeds of the law, 
the folly of putting doing before believing, all these were sub- 
jects which this little band of young men at Oxford were very 
slow to understand. Each and all in their turns struggled 
through their mental difficulties, and came out on the right 
side. But one of the last to reach "terra firma," and grasp 
the whole truth as it is in Jesus, undoubtedly was James 
Hervey. In fact, it was not till the year 1741, five years after 
he had been ordained, that he thoroughly received the whole 
gospel into his heart, and embraced the whole system of evan- 
gelical doctrine. Two sermons preached by Hervey at Bide- 



NOT THOROUGHLY ENLIGHTENED. 333 

ford about the year 1741, in which he plainly avowed his change 
of sentiments, were commonly called his " Recantation " 
sermons. 

The state of Hervey's heart during the seven years preceding 
1741 must have been one of continual conflict and inward dis- 
satisfaction. Enlightened enough to feel the value of his soul, 
and to see something of the sinfulness of sin, he was still un- 
acquainted with the way of peace. His letters written at this- 
period, both before and after ordination, exhibit a mind full of 
pious thoughts, holy desires, and high aspirations, but with 
everything out of proportion and out of place. The writer says 
excellent things about the soul, and sin, and God, and the 
Bible, and the world, and duty, and even says much about 
Christ. You cannot help admiring his evident sincerity, purity 
of mind, and zeal to do good. But you cannot help feeling 
that he has not got hold of things by the right end, and does 
not see the whole of religion. He is like an excellent and 
well-formed ship without a compass and rudder. He has not 
yet got his feet upon the Rock. He is incessantly putting 
things in their wrong places. The last are too often first, and 
the first are too often last. He does not say things that are 
not true, but he does not say them in the right way, and at the 
same time leaves out much that ought to be said. 

The unsatisfactory character of Hervey's theology at the 
beginning of his ministry is well illustrated by the following 
anecdote. In one of the Northamptonshire parishes where he 
preached before 17 41, there lived a ploughman who usually 
attended the ministry of Dr. Doddridge, and was well-informed 
in the doctrines of grace. Hervey being ordered by his physi- 
cians, for the benefit of his health, to follow the plough, in 
order to smell the fresh earth, frequently accompanied this 
ploughman when he was working. Knowing that he was a 
serious man, he said to him one morning, "What do you think 
is the hardest thing in religion ! " — The ploughman replied ; 



334 HER VEY AND THE PL UGHMAN. . 

" Sir, I am a poor man, and you are a minister ; I beg leave 
to return the question." — Then said Mr. Hervey: "I think the 
hardest thing is to deny sinful self ; " grounding his opinion on 
our Lord's admonition, " If any man will come after me, lei 
him deny himself." "I argued," said Mr. Hervey, "upon the 
import and extent of the duty, showing that merely to forbear 
sinful actions is little, and that we must deny admittance and 
entertainment to evil imaginations and quench irregular desires. 
In this way I shot my random bolt." — The ploughman quietly 
replied : " Sir, there is another instance of self-denial to which 
the injunction of Christ equally extends, which is the' hardest 
thing in religion, and that is, to deny righteous self. You know 
I do not come to hear you preach, but go every Sunday with 
my family to hear Dr. Doddridge at Northampton. We rise 
early in the morning, and have prayer before we set out, in 
which I find pleasure. Walking there and back I find pleasure. 
Under the sermon I find pleasure. When at the Lord's Table 
I find pleasure. We return, read a portion of Scripture, and 
go to prayer in the evening, and I find pleasure. But yet, 
to this moment, I find it the hardest thing to deny righteous 
self, I mean to renounce my own strength and righteousness, 
and not to lean on that for holiness or rely on this for justifica- 
tion." In repeating this story to a friend, Mr. Hervey observed, 
" I then hated the righteousness of Christ. I looked at the 
man with astonishment and disdain, and thought him an old 
fool, and wondered at what I fancied the motley mixture of 
piety and oddity in his notions. I have since seen clearly who 
was the fool ; not the wise old ploughman, but the proud 
James Hervey. I now discern sense, solidity, and truth in his 
observations." 

During this period of Hervey's life, his old Oxford friend, the 
famous George Whitefield, frequently corresponded with him. 
That mighty man of God had been brought into the full light 
of the gospel, and, like the Samaritan woman, burned with 



CORRESPONDENCE WITH WHITEFIELD. 335 

desire to bring all whom he knew and loved into the same 
glorious liberty. The following letter, while it shows White- 
tield's deep concern for his friend's salvation, makes Hervey's 
defective religious principles at this period very evident : " I 
long to have my dear friend come forth and preach the truth as 
it is in Jesus ; not a righteousness or holiness of our own, 
whereby we make ourselves meet, but the righteousness of 
another, even the Lord our righteousness ; upon the imputa- 
tion and apprehending of which by faith we shall be made meet 
by his Holy Spirit to live with and enjoy God. Dear Mr. 
Hervey, it is an excellent thing to be convinced of the freeness 
and riches of God's grace in Christ Jesus. It is sweet to know 
and preach that Christ justifies the ungodly, and that all good 
works are not so much as partly the cause, but the effect of our 
justification. Till convinced of these truths, you must own free 
will is in man, which is directly contrary to the Holy Scriptures 
and to the Articles of our Church. Let me advise dear Mr. 
Hervey, laying aside all prejudices, to read and pray over St. 
Paul's Epistles to the Romans and Galatians, and then to tell 
me what he thinks of this doctrine. Most of our old friends 
are now happily enlightened. God sets his seal to such preach- 
ing in an extraordinary manner, and I am persuaded the gates 
of hell will never be able to prevail against it. O that dear Mr. 
Hervey would also join with us ! O that the Lord would open 
his eyes to behold aright this mystery of godliness'? How 
would it rejoice my heart ! How would it comfort his own 
soul ! He would no longer groan under a spirit of bondage ; 
no, he would be brought into the glorious liberty of the children 
of God." This letter was dated Philadelphia, November 10, 

*739- 

Hervey's excellent biographer, John Brown of Whitburn, 
gives the following clear account of his state of mind at this 
period: "It is evident that he was seeking salvation ; but he 
sought it, as it were, by the works of the law. One of his 



3 3 6 QUOTA TIONS FR OM HIS BIOGRA PHY. 

leading errors was, that he had low, scanty, inadequate apprehen- 
sions of the love of God. From this unavoidably followed a 
disesteem of imputed righteousness, a conceit of personal qualifi- 
cations, a spirit of legal bondage, and a tincture of Pharisaical 
pride. He conceived faith to be no more than a mere believing 
of promises if he did well, and of threatenings if he did ill. He 
wished for a salvation to be bestowed upon some sincere, pious, 
and worthy persons, and was distressed because he could not 
find himself of that number. To use his own words, when he 
felt he was deplorably deficient in duty, he would comfort him- 
self with saying, ' Soul, thy God only requires sincere obedience, 
and perhaps to-morrow may be more abundant in acts of holi- 
ness.' When overcome by sin, he would call to mind his 
righteous deeds, and so think to commute with divine justice, 
and quit scores for his offences by his duties. In order to be 
reconciled to God, and to ease his conscience, he would promise 
stricter watchfulness, more alms, and renewed fastings. Over- 
looking entirely the active obedience of our Redeemer, he fondly 
imagined that through the death of Christ he might have pardon 
of his sins, and could by his own doings secure eternal life." 

" For some time," continues his biographer, " letters from 
Whitefield were disregarded, or answered with stubborn silence ; 
but at length, by this and other means, a saving change took 
place in Mr. Hervey's mind. Says he, The two great com- 
mandments — Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy 
heart ; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself — made the first 
awakening impression on my heart. Amazing ! thought I ; are 
these commands of God as obligatory as the prohibition of 
adultery or the observation of the Sabbath 1 Then has my 
whole life been a continued act of disobedience ; not a day nor 
an hour in which I have performed my duty ! This conviction 
struck me as the handwriting upon the wall struck the presump- 
tuous monarch. It pursued me, as Saul pursued the Christians, 
not only to my own house, but to distant cities ; nor even gave 



OBTAINS CLEARER LIGHT. 337 

up the great controversy till, under the influence of the Spirit, 
it brought me, weary and heavy laden, to Jesus Christ. Then 
God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, shined 
I, into my heart, and gave me the light of the glory of God in the 
face of Jesus Christ." 

After all, it would be difficult to give a more vivid and in- 
teresting account of the change which came over Hervey than 
that which he himself gives in a letter to his faithful friend, 
George Whitefield. He says : " You are pleased to ask how 
the Holy Ghost convinced me of self-righteousness, and drove 
me out of my false rest. Indeed, sir, I cannot tell. The light 
was not instantaneous ; it did not flash upon my soul, but arose 
like the dawning of the day. A little book by Jenks, upon 
■ Submission to the Righteousness of God,' was made service- 
able to me. Your journals, dear sir, and sermons, especially 
that sweet sermon on the text, ' What think ye of Christ?' were 
a means of bringing me to the knowledge of the truth. Another 
piece has been also like precious eye-salve to my dim and 
clouded understanding — I mean Marshall's ' Gospel Mystery 
of Sanctification.' These, blessed be He who is a light to them 
that sit in darkness, have in some degree convinced me of my 
former errors. I now begin to see I have been labouring in 
the fire, and wearying myself for very vanity, while I have 
attempted to establish my own righteousness. I trusted I knew 
not what, while I trusted in some imaginary good deeds of my 
own. These are no hiding-place from the storm ; they are a 
refuge of lies. If I had the meekness of Moses and the patience 
of Job, the zeal of Paul and the love of John, I durst not 
advance the least plea to eternal life on this footing. As for my 
own beggarly performances, wretched righteousnesses, gracious 
Emmanuel ! I am ashamed, I am grieved that I should thrust 
them into the plan of thy divine, thy inconceivably precious 
obedience ! My schemes are altered. I now desire to work in 
my blessed Master's service, not for life, but from life and 

(195) 22 



338 OPERATIONS OF THE SPIRIT. 

salvation. I would study to please him in righteousness and 
holiness all the days of my life." 

In another letter to Whitefield, of about the same date, 
Hervey says : " I own, with shame and sorrow, I have been a 
blind leader of the blind. My tongue and my pen have per- 
verted the good ways of the Lord, have darkened the glory of 
redeeming merit and sovereign grace. I have dared to invade 
the glories of an all-sufficient Saviour, and to pluck the crown 
off his head. My writings and discourses have derogated from 
the honour, the everlasting, incommunicable honour of Jesus. 
They presumed to give works a share in the redemption and 
recovery of a lost sinner. They have placed filthy rags on the 
throne of the Lamb, and by that means have debased the 
Saviour and exalted the sinner. But I trust the divine truth 
begins to dawn upon my soul. Oh, may it, like the rising sun, 
shine more and more till the day break in all its brightness, 
and the shadows flee away ! Now, was I possessed of all the 
righteous acts that have made saints and martyrs famous in all 
generations, could they be transferred to me, and might I call 
them my own, I would renounce them all that I might win 
Christ." 

I make no excuse for the length at which I have dwelt on 
this portion of Hervey' s history. A mere worldly man may see 
nothing interesting in it ; but a true Christian, unless I am 
greatly mistaken, will find it full of instruction. It is useful to 
mark the diversities of the operation of the Spirit. How slowly 
and gradually he carries on his work in some hearts, compared 
to the rapid progress he makes in others ! It is useful to mark 
the extent of his operations. How thoroughly he can turn 
upside down a man's theological opinions ! How little we know 
what a young self-righteous minister may one day, by God's 
grace, become ! Well would it be for the Christian Church if 
there were more ministers in her pale taught of God, and brought 
to sit at the feet of Christ, like James Hervey. 



HIS STUDIOUS HABITS. 339 

The last seventeen years of Hervey's life were spent in com- 
parative retirement at Weston Favell. " My house," he writes 
to a friend, " is quite retired. It faces the garden and the field, 
so that we hear none of the tumultuous din of the world, and 
see nothing but the wonderful and charming works of the 
Creator. Oh, that I may be enabled to improve this advan- 
tageous solitude !" Willing as he doubtless was to go forth into 
public and do the work of an evangelist, like his beloved friend 
Whitefield, his delicate health made it quite impossible. From 
his youth up he had shown a decided tendency to pulmonary 
consumption. He had neither voice nor physical strength to 
preach in the open air, address large congregations, and arrest 
the attention of multitudes, like many of his- contemporaries. 
He saw this clearly, and wisely submitted to God's appoint- 
ment. Those whom he could not reach with his voice, he 
resolved to approach by his pen. From his isolated study in 
his Northamptonshire parish he sent forth arrows which were 
sharp in the hearts of the King's enemies. In a word, he 
became a diligent writer on behalf of the gospel from the time 
of his conversion till he was laid in his grave. Ill health, no 
doubt, often stopped his labour, and laid him aside. But, 
though faint, he was always pursuing. Delicate and weak as 
he always was, his pen was very seldom idle, and he was always 
doing '-'what he could." The work to which he devoted him- 
self required a large measure of faith and patience. He 
laboured on un cheered by admiring crowds, and unaided by 
the animal excitement which often carries forward the wearied 
preacher. But while health and strength lasted he never ceased 
to labour, and seldom laboured in vain. Hundreds were 
reached by Hervey's writings, who would never have conde- 
scended to listen to Whitefield's voice. 

The very retirement of Weston Favell was not without its 
advantages. It gave the worthy rector unbroken leisure for 
writing. He could sit down in his study without fear of being 



34° HIS 10 VE OF THE PURITANS. 

disturbed by the endless petty interruptions which disturb the 
dweller in large towns, and make the continuous flow of thought 
almost impossible. Above all, it gave him plenty of time for 
reading and storing his mind. It has been well said that 
" reading maketh a full man," and no one can look through 
Hervey's literary remains without seeing abundant evidence 
that he was a great reader. With Greek and Roman classical 
writers he was familiar from his youth. The following theolo- 
gical writers are said to have been among his special favourites : 
Chrysostom, Gerhard, Alting, Owen, Manton, Goodwin, Rey- 
nolds, Hall, Beveridge, Bunyan, Hopkins, Howe, Bates, Flavel, 
Caryl, Poole, Charnock, Traill, Turretine, Witsius, Vitringa, 
Hurrion, Leighton, Polhill, Gill, Brine, Guyse, Boston, Rawlins, 
Coles, Jenks, Marshall, Erskine, Milton, Young, and Watts. 
The names of these authors speak for themselves. The man 
who was familiar with their works was likely to be full of matter, 
and when he wrote for the press he had a fair right to claim a 
patient hearing. The ways of God's providence are mysterious 
and truly instructive. If Hervey had not been kept at home 
by ill health, he would probably never have had time for much 
reading. If he had not had time to be a reader, he would 
never have written what he did. 

The English Puritans appear to have been special favourites 
with Hervey. Again and again, in his biography, we find him 
speaking of them in terms of the highest commendation. For 
instance, he says in one place, " Be not ashamed of the name 
Puritan. The Puritans were the soundest preachers, and, I 
believe, the truest followers of Christ in their day." Again : 
" For my part I esteem the Puritans as some of the most zealous 
Christians that ever appeared in our land." Again : " The 
Puritans, one and all of them, glory in the righteousness of their 
great Mediator ; they extol his imputed righteousness in almost 
every page, and pour contempt on all other works compared 
with their Lord's. For my part I know no set of writers in the 






HIS LITERARY WORKS. 34 1 

world so remarkable for this doctrine and diction. It quite 
distinguishes them from the generality of our modern treatises." 
I make no apology for these quotations. They throw broad, 
clear light on Hervey's theological opinions. Nothing brings 
out a man's distinctive religious views so thoroughly as his 
choice of books. Tell me what divines a minister loves to read, 
and I will soon tell you to what school of theology he belongs. 

The principal literary works which Hervey published in his 
life-time, were two volumes of " Meditations and Contempla- 
tions," and three volumes of " Dialogues and Letters" between 
two fictitious persons, whom he named " Theron and Aspasio." 
The " Meditations" are soliloquies and thoughts arising out of 
such subjects as the tombs, a flower-garden, creation, night, and 
the starry heavens. The " Dialogues" touch on many points 
of theology, but especially upon the great doctrine of justifica- 
tion by faith in the imputed righteousness of Christ. If life had 
been continued, Hervey intended to have added a fourth volume 
of" Dialogues," of which the subject was to have been Chris- 
tian holiness. But his early death cut short the design, and he 
was only able to tell his friends that they must regard his favourite 
book, Marshall on Sanctification, as his deputy and representa- 
tive. His words were, — " I do, by these presents, depute 
Marshall to supply my lack of service. Marshall expresses my 
thoughts, prosecutes my schemes, and not only pursues the same 
end, but proceeds in the same way. I shall therefore rejoice in 
the prospect of having the 'Gospel Mystery of Sanctification' 
stand as a fourth volume to ' Theron and Aspasio.'" 

Both the works above mentioned attained an extraordinary 
degree of popularity from the moment they were published, and 
procured for the author a world-wide reputation. They formed, 
in fact, the whole foundation of his fame. Thousands and tens 
of thousands of Christians have never known anything of Hervey 
except as " the author of Theron and Aspasio." His first work, 
the Meditations, ran through twenty editions in a very short time, 



34 2 STYLE OF HIS WRITINGS. 

and was translated into the Dutch language ! Theron and 
Aspasio met with acceptance all over England and Scotland, 
and obliged even worldly critics to take notice of it. All these 
are plain facts which admit of no controversy. They are facts 
which arouse in our minds a little curiosity. We naturally want 
to know what kind of religious writing was popular in England a 
hundred years ago. 

The first thought that will probably start up within us as we read 
Hervey's Meditations and Dialogues, will be unmixed surprise 
and amazement. The style is so peculiar, that we marvel how 
our forefathers could possibly have liked it. From first to last 
the author writes in such a florid, high flown, luxuriant, bom- 
bastic, stilted fashion, that he almost takes your breath away. 
You can hardly believe that he is in earnest, and that the whole 
thing is not an assumed mannerism and affectation. The long 
words, the grandiose mode of expressing thoughts, the starched 
and painted dress of the sentences — all, all is so utterly unlike 
the writing of the present century, that the reader stands dumb- 
founded, and hardly knows whether he ought to laugh or to cry. 
In the whole range of popular English books, I do not hesi- 
tate to say that I do not know a style of writing less to be 
admired than the style of " Theron and Aspasio." One cannot 
help inwardly feeling, What a strange standard of public taste 
must have prevailed, when such writing as this was deliberately 
published and universally admired ! 

However, first impressions are not always correct. We must 
not hastily condemn Hervey's writings as worthless, because 
their style is not to our mind. A little calm consideration will 
probably show us that there is far more to be said for them than 
at first sight appears. A second look at the rector of Weston 
Faveli's writings will very likely modify our verdict about them. | 
To those who are disposed to think lightly of Hervey's writings 
I venture to submit the following considerations. 

For one thing, we must in common fairness remember the 



ANALYSIS OF HIS WRITINGS. 343 

times in which Hervey wrote. The middle of last century was 
an era in English literature, when no writing would go down 
with the public that was not somewhat stilted, classical, long- 
worded, and stiff. The short, plain, cut-and-thrust style of the 
present day would have been condemned as indicative of a 
vulgar, uneducated mind. Poor Hervey wrote in days when 
moral essays were framed on the model of the Spectator, the 
Tatter, and the Rambler, and fictions were written like " Sir 
Charles Grandison " and " Clarissa Harlow." If he wanted to 
get the ear of the public, he had no alternative but to write 
according to the public taste. Let us grant that his style or 
English composition is far too ornate and florid ; but let us not 
forget to lay the blame at the right door. His faults were the 
faults of his day. If he had written Theron and Aspasio in a 
plain unadorned style, it is probable that the book would have 
fallen unnoticed to the ground. 

For another thing, we must do Hervey the justice to remem- 
ber, that under all the gaudy ornamentation of his compositions 
his Master's business is never forgotten. The more we read his 
books the more we must admit, that although he may offend our 
tastes, he is always most faithful to Christ's truth. It is impos- 
sible not to admire the vein of piety which runs through every 
page, and the ability with which he defends doctrines which the 
heart of man naturally detests. The only wonder is that books 
containing so much scriptural truth should ever have become so 
extensively popular. Even Whiter! eld did not expect so much 
acceptance for them. " I foretell the fate of these volumes," 
he said in a letter ; " nothing but your scenery can screen you. 
Self will never consent to die, though slain in so genteel a man- 
ner, without showing some resentment against the artful mur- 
derer." In fact, I always feel that God gave a special blessing 
to Hervey's writings on account of his eminent faithfulness to 
the gospel in evil times. I look at them with reverence and 
respect as weapons which did good service in their day, though 



344 HIS VIE WS A TTA CKED. 

the fashion of them may not suit my taste. To use the author's 
own words, they were an " attempt to dress the good old truths 
of the Reformation in such drapery of language as to allure 
people of all conditions." God was pleased to honour the 
effort in its day, and we need not be ashamed to honour it 
also. 

No well-informed Christian will be surprised to hear that 
Hervey's writings did not please everybody. Of course they 
were far too Scriptural to escape the enmity of the children of 
this world. But this unhappily was not all the enmity that the 
author of " Theron and Aspasio" had to endure. His clear and 
sharply cut statements about justification gave great offence to 
Christians of the Arminian school of theology. John Wesley 
openly assaulted his views of imputed righteousness. Sande- 
man, a Scotch Independent, fiercely attacked his views of faith. 
In short, the amiable rector of Weston Favell had to learn, like 
many other good men, that the most beautiful writing will not 
command universal acceptance. The way of accurate Scrip- 
tural divinity is a way which many will always call " heresy," 
and speak against. 

I will not weary my readers by entering into the details of 
Hervey's controversial campaigns. Without pretending to en- 
dorse every sentence that he wrote, I feel no doubt that on the 
whole he was right, and his adversaries wrong. Cudworth, 
Ryland, and others, ably defended him. The only remark that 
I make is, that Hervey's spirit and temper, under the assaults 
made upon him, were beyond all praise. Never was there a 
divine so utterly free from " odium theologicum." Well would 
it have been for the credit of the Church of Christ, if the con- 
troversialists of the last century had all been as meek, and 
gentle, and amiable, and kind-tempered as the author of "Theron 
and Aspasio." 

The letters which Hervey wrote, on a great variety of subjects, 
are exceedingly good, and will repay an attentive perusal. Sit- 



HIS CORRESPONDENCE. 345 

ting in his quiet country parsonage, he had time to think over 
all that he wrote ; and his correspondence, like his contemporary 
Venn's, is one of the best part of his literary remains. Those 
who read his letters will find their style, as a general rule, very 
different from that of " Theron and Aspasio." The writer 
seems to come down from his high horse, and to deal familiarly 
and easily with men. The following letter to a dying young 
lady is a beautiful specimen of his epistolary style, and is so 
good all through that my readers will probably not blame me if 
I give it to them whole and entire. A fac-simile of it faces the 
title-page of my copy of Brown's life of Hervey, and is a per- 
fect specimen of small, delicate, finished, copper-plate hand- 
writing : 

" Dear Miss Sarah, — So you are going to leave us, and 
will be at your eternal home before us ! I heartily wish you an 
easy, a comfortable, and a lightsome journey. Fear not. He 
that died for you on the cross will be with you when you walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death. (Ps. xxiii. 4.) 

" People that travel often sing by the way, to render their 
journey more pleasant. Let me furnish you with a song most 
exactly and charmingly suited to your purpose : ' Who shall lay 
anything to my charge ? It is God that justijieth me. Who is 
he that condemneth me ? It is Christ that died; yea, rather, that 
is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also 
maketh intercession for me.' Shall the law lay anything to my 
charge % That has been fully satisfied by the obedience and 
death of my divine Lord. Shall sin condemn me % That has 
all been fully borne, all been abolished, by the Lamb of God 
which taketh away the sin of the world. Shall Satan accuse 
me 1 ? What will that avail when the Judge himself justifies me, 
the Judge himself pronounces me righteous! (See Rom. viii. 
33? 34 ) Gal. hi. 13 ; 1 Pet. ii. 24 ; Daniel ix. 24 ; John i. 29.) 

" But shall I be pronounced righteous who have been and 
am a poor sinner 1 Hear what the Holy Ghost saith : ' Christ 



346 LETTER TO A YOUNG LADY. 

loved the Church and gave himself for it, that he might present it to 
himself a glorious Church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such 
thing.' What reason have they to be afraid or ashamed who 
have neither spot nor wrinkle, nor any blemish ? And such will 
be the appearance of those who are washed in Christ's blood, 
and clothed in Christ's righteousness. They will be presented 
faultless and with exceeding joy before the throne. (See Eph. v. 
25, 27 ; Jude 24.) 

" But what shall I do for my kind companions and dear 
friends 1 You will exchange them for better, far better. You 
will go to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly 
Jerusalem. You will go to an innumerable company of angels, 
to the general assembly and Church of the first-born which are 
written in heaven, and to the spirits of just men made perfect. 
You will go to God, your reconciled God, the Judge of all, and 
to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood 
of sprinkling that speaketh better things for you than your 
heart can wish or your thoughts imagine. (See Heb. xii. 
22-24.) 

" Perhaps your spirits are weak. Therefore I will not tire 
you. The Lord Jesus make these sweet texts a cordial to your 
soul. I hope to follow you ere long, to find you in the man- 
sions of peace and joy, and to join with you in singing praise, 
everlasting praise, to him who hath loved us, and washed us 
from our sins in his own blood. (Rev. i. 5.) 

" Into his hands, his ever merciful and most compassionate 
hands, I commend your spirit. — Your truly affectionate friend, 

"J. Hervey. 

"Weston, April 26, 1755." 

I make no comment on this letter ; it needs none. There 
are not many such letters written in these days of universal 
hurry, under the influences of railway travelling, electric tele- 
graphs, and penny post. The faculty of writing such letters is 
fast dving out of the world. But my readers will probably agree 



HIS PUBLISHED SERMONS. 347 

with me that the man who could write to his friends in this 
fashion was no common correspondent. 

The published sermons of James Hervey are very few in num- 
ber. It is much to be regretted that we have no more of them. 
The few published are so extremely good, both as to matter and 
composition, that one feels sorry he did not give the world a 
hundred more of the same sort. Of course, he could never be 
a popular preacher. His weak health, feeble voice, and deli- 
cate constitution, made this impossible. He often lamented 
his inability to serve his people better in the pulpit, comparing 
himself to a soldier wounded, bleeding, and disabled, and only 
not slain. He would frequently say, " My preaching is not like 
sending an arrow from a bow, for which some strength of arm is 
necessary, but like pulling the trigger of a gun ready charged, 
which the feeblest finger can do." This remark was most true. 
No doubt, his want of a striking action and delivery robbed his 
sermons of effectiveness. But they were always full of excellent 
stuff, excellently put together. 

The reader of Hervey's Sermons will discover at once that they 
are written in a style very unlike that of "Theron and Aspasio." 
He will find comparatively little of that luxuriancy and orna- 
mentation to which I have already alluded. He will see, to his 
surprise, a mode of address eminently simple, perspicuous, 
pointed, and direct, though never degenerating into rant and 
vulgarity. The rector of Weston Favell had evidently most 
just and wise views of the wants of a mixed country congrega- 
tion. He knew that, next to proclaiming sound doctrine, a 
minister's first aim should be to be understood. When, there- 
fore, he got up into his Northamptonshire pulpit, he deliberately 
left behind his flowers and feathers, his paint and his gilding, 
his fine words and long sentences, his classical allusions and 
elaborate arguments. Usefulness was the one thing that he 
desired to obtain, and to obtain it he was not ashamed to speak 
very plain English to plain men. The following paragraphs 



34$ SPECIMEN OF HIS SERMONS. 

from a sermon preached by him in 1757, on "The Means of 
Safety," from Hebrews xi. 28, will probably be read with interest, 
as conveying a fair idea of his style of preaching : — 

" Let me give a word of direction. Fly to Christ, alarmed 
sinners? Come under the covert of his blood. Appropriate 
the blessed Jesus ; look unto him, and his merits are your own. 
Thus sprinkle his blood : sprinkle it upon your lintel and door- 
posts ; upon all you are, upon all you have, and all you do ; 
upon your consciences, that they may be purged ; upon your 
souls, that they may be sanctified ; upon your works, that they 
may be accepted. Say, every one of you, I am a poor, guilty, 
helpless creature ; but in Jesus Christ, who is full of grace and 
truth, I have righteousness and strength. I am a poor, polluted, 
loathsome creature ; but Jesus Christ, who is the image of the 
invisible God and the brightness of his Father's glory, has loved 
me and washed me from my filthiness in his own blood. I am 
by nature a perverse, depraved creature, and by evil practices a 
lost, damnable sinner ; but Jesus Christ who made the world, 
Jesus Christ whom heaven and earth adore, Jesus Christ him- 
self came from the mansions of bliss on purpose to save me, to 
give himself for me. And how can I perish who have such a 
ransom ? 

" Should you say, Have I a warrant for such a trust? I 
reply, You have the best of warrants, our Lord's express per- 
mission, 'Whosoever will let him take the water of life freely.' 
It is not said, this or that person only, but whosoever, including 
you and me, excluding no individual man or woman. It is not 
said, whosoever is worthy, but whosoever is willing. Wilt thou 
be made whole ? was our Lord's question to the impotent man 
at the pool of Bethesda. Wilt thou, all terms and conditions 
apart, inherit grace and glory? is his most benevolent address 
to sinful men in all ages. 

"You have our Lord's most gracious invitation; 'Come 
unto me.' And whom does he call? The righteous? No. 



FREE GRACE. 349 

The excellent 1 Quite the reverse. He calls sinners, miserable 
sinners, even the most miserable of sinners. Those who are 
weary and heavy-laden, overwhelmed with iniquities, bowed 
down to the brink of hell, and ready to think, ' There is no 
hope.' Yet them he encourages, them he invites ; to them he 
declares, ' I will give you rest,' rest in the enjoyment of peace 
with God, and peace in your own consciences. Observe and 
admire the riches of your Redeemer's grace. He says not, Ye 
are vile, wretched, polluted by sin, and enslaved to the devil, 
therefore keep at a distance ; but therefore come. Come, and 
be cleansed by my blood ; come, and be made free by my 
Spirit. He says not, Furnish yourselves with this or that or 
the other recommending accomplishment ; but only come. 
Come just as you are, poor, undone, guilty creatures. Yea, 
come to me for pardon and recovery ; to me, who have given 
myself, my life, my all for your ransom. 

" Should you still question whether these inestimable bless- 
ings are free for you 1 Remember, brethren, they are free for 
sinners. Is this your character] Then they are as free for 
your acceptance as for any person in the world. To us eternal 
life is given — not to us who had deserved it by our goodness, 
but us who had forfeited it by our sins. To you is preached 
the forgiveness of sins — not to you whose transgressions are 
inconsiderable, but you whose iniquities are more in number 
than the hairs of your head. Even to you who are the lost 
and perishing sinner of Adam's family, is the word of this salva- 
tion sent. And by God's commission we publish it, that as sinners 
you may receive it, that receiving it you may commence be- 
lieving, and that believing you may have life through his name. 

" Come then, fellow-sinners, believe the record of heaven. 
Set to your seal that God is true. Honour his word, which 
cannot lie. Honour his grace, which is absolutely free. Honour 
his dear Son, who has obtained eternal redemption for such 
unworthy creatures as you and I." 



350 HIS PRIVATE LIFE. 

I have only two remarks to make on the above extract 
before I pass on. If any reader of Hervey's works has imbibed 
the idea that he could only write English after the model of 
" Theron and Aspasio," I advise him to alter his estimate of 
the good man's powers. The rector of Weston Favell could be 
plain enough to suit the humblest intellect, when he pleased. 
If any one thinks that the English pulpit of the present day is 
greatly in advance of the last century, I venture to think -that 
he has something yet to learn. My own deliberate opinion is, 
that it would be a great blessing to this country, if we had 
more of such direct preaching as some parishes in Northamp- 
tonshire heard a hundred years ago. 

The private life of Hervey was in thorough harmony with his 
writing and preaching. It is the universal testimony of all who 
knew him, that he was an eminently holy man. Even the 
clergy of the neighbourhood, who disliked his theology, and 
had no sympathy with his ways and opinions, could find no 
fault in his daily walk. In fact, they used to call him " Saint 
James." He never married, and by reason of ill health seldom 
left home, and was confined to the house. But in-doors or 
out-of-doors, he was always full of his Master's business, always 
redeeming the time, always reading, writing, or speaking about 
Christ, and always behaving like a man who had recently come 
from his Lord's presence to say something, and was soon going 
back again. 

His hu?iiility was eminent. He never considered himself as 
James Hervey, the celebrated writer, but as a poor guilty sinner, 
equally indebted to divine grace with the lowest day-labourer 
in his parish. To two malefactors condemned to be hanged, 
he said : " You have just the same foundation for hope as I 
must have when I shall depart this life. When I shall be 
summoned to the great tribunal, what will be my plea, and 
what my dependence'? Nothing but Christ. I am a poor 
unworthy sinner ; but worthy is the Lamb that was slain. This 



HIS CHARITY AND SELF-DENIAL. 351 

is my only hope, and this is as free for you as it is for your 
friend and fellow-sinner James Hervey." On publishing his 
famous Fast-day Sermons, he observes : " May the Lord Jesus 
himself, who -was crucified in weakness, vouchsafe to work by 
weakness, or, in other words, by James Hervey !" — When near 

his death he wrote to a friend : "I beseech Mr. ; to unite 

his supplication with yours, for I am fearful lest I should dis- 
grace the gospel in my languishing moments. Pray for me, 
the weakest of ministers and the weakest of Christians." 

His charity and self-denial were most eminent. He literally 
gave away almost all that he had, and lived on a mere fraction 
of his income. In his giving he was always discreet. " I am 
God's steward," he said, "for his poor, and I must husband 
the little pittance I have to bestow on them, and make it go as 
far as possible." But when money was likely to be particularly 
serviceable, as in the case of long sickness or sudden losses, he 
would give away five, ten, or fifteen guineas at a time, taking 
care it should not be known from whom the money came. His 
income was never large, and it might be wondered how he 
managed to spare such sums for charitable uses. But he saved 
up nothing, and gave away all the profits arising from his books 
— which were sometimes large sums — in doing good. In fact, 
this was his bank for the poor. " I have devoted this fund," 
he said, "to God. I will, _ on no account, apply it to any 
worldly uses. I write, not for profit or fame, but to serve the 
cause of God ; and, as he has blessed my attempt, I think my- 
self bound to relieve the distresses of my fellow-creatures with 
the profit that comes from that quarter." He carried out this 
principle to the very last. Even after his death, he was found 
to have ordered all profits arising from any future sale of his 
books to be constantly applied to charitable uses. 

But space would fail me if I were to dwell particularly on all 
the leading features of Hervey's private character. The picture 
is far too large to go into the frame of a short memoir like this. 



3 5 2 HIS I AST ILLNESS. 

His spirit of Catholic love to all God's people of every denom- 
ination — his delight in the society and conversation of godly 
people — his faithfulness in reproving sin — his singular love to 
Christ, and delight in his finished work and atonement— his 
devotional diligence — his veneration for the Scriptures — his 
meekness, gentleness, and tenderness of spirit — all these are 
points on which much might be written, and much will be 
found in the pages of his biography. So far as I can judge, 
he appears to have been a man of as eminently saintly character 
as any that this country can point to, and one worthy to be 
ranked by the side of Bradford, Baxter, and George Herbert. 
Few evangelical men, at any rate, in the last century, can be 
named, who seem to have had so few enemies, and to have 
lost so few friends. None, certainly, were so universally 
lamented. 

The closing scene of James Hervey's life was curiously 
beautiful. He died, as he had lived for seventeen years, in the 
full faith and peace of Christ's gospel. His life had long been 
a continual struggle with disease ; and when his last illness 
came upon him, it found him thoroughly prepared. Invalids 
have one great advantage over strong people, at any rate — a 
sudden accession of pains and ailments does not startle them, 
and they are seldom taken by surprise. The holy rector of 
Weston Favell had looked death in the face so long that he was 
no stranger to him ; and when he went down into the cold 
waters of the great river, he walked calmly, quietly, and undis- 
turbed. Those glorious evangelical doctrines which he had 
proclaimed and defended as truths while he lived, he found- to 
be strong consolations when he died. 

His last attack of illness began in October 1758, and carried 
him off on Christmas day. Disease of the lungs, with all its 
distressing accompaniments, was the agent employed to take 
down his earthly tabernacle ; and he seems to have gone 
through even more than the ordinary suffering which such 



D YING SA YINGS. 353 

disease entails. But nothing shook the dying sufferer's faith, 
lie had his days of conflict and inward struggle, like most of 
Christ's faithful soldiers ; but he always came out more than 
conqueror, through Him that loved him. An abundant entrance 
into rest was ministered to him. He entered harbour at last, 
not like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a broken plank, but 
like a stately ship, with all her sails expanded, and wafted 
forward by a prosperous gale. 

The dying sayings of eminent saints, when God permits 
them to say much, are always instructive. It was eminently 
the case with James Hervey. Like dying Jacob, he was 
enabled to speak to all around him, and to testify his deep 
sense of the value of Christ's great salvation. Like Christiana, 
in " Pilgrim's Progress," he was enabled to speak comfortably 
to those who stood near him, and followed him to the river- 
side. To his doctor he wrote, at an early period of his last 
illness : " I now spend almost all my whole time in reading 
and praying over the Bible. Indeed, you cannot conceive how 
the springs of life in me are relaxed, and relaxing. ' What thou 
doest, do quickly,' is a proper admonition for me as I approach 
dissolution. My dear friend, attend to the one thing needful. 
I have no heart to take any medicine ; all but Christ is to me 
unprofitable. Blessed be God for pardon and salvation through 
his blood ! Let me prescribe this for my dear friend. My 
cough is very troublesome ; I can get little rest ; but my never- 
failing remedy is the love of Christ." 

On the 15th of December — the month that he died — he 
spoke very strongly to his curate, Mr. Maddock, about the 
assurance of faith, and the great love of God in Christ. " Oh!" 
said he, " how much has Christ done for me, and how little 
have I done for so loving a Saviour ! If I preached even once 
a week it was but a burden to me. I have not visited the 
people of my parish as I ought to have done, and thus preached 
from house to house. I have not taken every opportunity of 

(195) 23 



354 LAST WORDS. 

speaking for Christ. Do not think I am afraid to die. I assure 
you I am not. I know what my Saviour has done for me. 
I want to be gone. But I wonder and lament to think of the 
love of Christ in doing so much for me, and how little I have 
done for him ! " 

On the 25 th of December — the day that he died — his loving 
friend and physician, Dr. Stonehouse, came to see him about 
three hours before he expired. Hervey seized the opportunity, 
spoke strongly and affectionately to him about his soul's con- 
cerns, and entreated him not to be overcharged with the cares 
of this life. Seeing his great weakness and prostration, the 
doctor begged him to spare himself. " No, doctor," replied 
the dying man, with ardour, " no ! You tell me I have but a 
few minutes to live ; let me spend them in adoring our great 
Redeemer." He then repeated the words, " Though my heart 
and my flesh fail, God is the strength of my heart, and my 
portion for ever ;" and also dwelt, in a delightful manner, on 
St. Paul's words, " All things are yours ; whether life, or things 
present, or things to come." "Here," he exclaimed, "here is 
the treasury of a Christian ! Death is reckoned among this 
inventory ; and a noble treasure it is. How thankful I am for 
death, as it is the passage through which I go to the Lord and 
Giver of eternal life, and as it frees me from all the misery 
which you see me now endure, and which I am willing to 
endure as long as God thinks fit ! I know that he will by-and- 
by, in his own good time, dismiss me from the body. These 
light afflictions are but for a moment, and then comes an 
eternal weight of glory. Oh, welcome, welcome death! Thou 
mayst well be reckoned among the treasures of the Christian ! 
To live is Christ, and to die is gain !" After this he lay for a 
considerable time without seeming to breathe, and his friends 
thought he was gone. But he revived a little, and, being raised 
in his chair, said : — " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart 
in peace, according to thy most holy and comfortable words ; 



ESTIMATE OF HIS WORTH. 355 

for mine eyes have seen thy most holy and comfortable salva- 
tion ! Here, doctor, is my cordial. What are all the cordials 
given to support the dying, in comparison of that which arises 
from the promises of salvation by Christ % This, this supports 
me ! " 

He said little after this, and was rapidly drawing near his end. 
About three o'clock in the afternoon he said : " The conflict is 
over; now all is done." After that time he scarcely spoke any- 
thing intelligible, except the words, "Precious salvation!" At 
last, about four o'clock, without a sigh or a groan, he shut his 
eyes and departed, on Christmas-day 1758, in the forty-fifth year 
of his age. Never, perhaps, was there a more triumphant 
illustration of the saying of a great spiritual champion of the 
last century, — " The world may not like our methodists and 
evangelical people, but the world cannot deny that they die 
well!" 

I leave James Hervey here, having traced his history from his 
cradle to his grave. He was a man of whom the world was not 
worthy, and one to whom even the Church of God has never 
given his due measure of honour. I am well aware that he was 
not perfect. I do not pretend to say that I can subscribe 
entirely to everything he wrote, either about the nature of faith 
or about assurance; but whatever his faults and defects, I do 
believe that he was one of the holiest and best ministers in Eng- 
land, a hundred years ago, and that he did a work in his time 
which will be seen to have borne good fruit in the last 
great day. 

I know well that Hervey was only a writer, and nothing but 
a wTiter. I know well that the value of his works has almost 
passed away. Like our old wooden three-deckers,- they did 
good service in their time, but are now comparatively obsolete 
and laid aside. But I believe the day will never come when the 
Church will not require pens as well as tongues, able writers as 
well as able preachers ; and I venture to think it would be well 



35 6 TESTIMONY OF WILLIAM ROMAINE, 

for the Church of our day, if we had a few more hard students 
and careful writers of the stamp of James Hervey. I therefore 
boldly claim for him a high place among the spiritual heroes of 
the last century. Let us admire Whitefield and Wesley; but 
let us not grudge Hervey his crown. He deserves to be had in 
remembrance. 

I now conclude this sketch with a few testimonies to Hervey's 
merits, which, to say the least, demand serious attention. The 
witnesses are all men of mark, and men who had many oppor- 
tunities of weighing the merits of preachers and writers. Let 
us hear what they thought of the subject before us, the rector 
of Weston Favell. 

My first witness shall be William Romaine. He says : " I 
never saw one who came up so near to the Scripture character 
of a Christian ; as Mr. Hervey. God enriched him with great 
gifts and great graces. He had a fine understanding and a great 
memory. He was very well skilled in Hebrew, and an excellent 
critic in Greek. — There was great experience of heart-love upon 
his tongue. He used to speak of the love of the adorable 
Redeemer like one who had seen him face to face in the fulness 
of his glory. As to his writings, I leave them to speak for 
themselves. They stand in no need of my praises." 

My next witness shall be Henry Venn. He says : " Mr. 
Hervey was the most extraordinary man I ever saw in my life, 
as much beyond most of the excellent as the swan for white- 
ness and stately figure is beyond the common fowl. His 
Meditations and Contemplations deserve your most sincere 
regard. You may look upon them as you would upon Aaron's 
rod, by which such wonders were wrought. These Thoughts 
have been the means of giving sight to the blind, life to souls 
dead in trespasses and sins, and winning the young, the gay, 
and the rich, to see greater charms in a crucified Saviour than 
in all that dazzles vain minds." 

My next witness shall be Cowper the poet. He says : " Per- 



VENN, COW PER, dn. 357 

; haps I may be partial to Hervey; but I think him one of the 
5 most Scriptural writers in the world." 

My next witness shall be Richard Cecil. He says : " Let us 

J do the world justice. It has seldom found considerate, gentle, 

1 but earnest, heavenly, and enlightened teachers. When it has 

found such, truth has received a very general attention. Such 

1 a man was Hervey, and his works have met their reward." 

My next witness shall be the late Edward Bickersteth. He 
' says : " Few books have been so useful as Hervey's ' Theron 
1 and Aspasio;' though like every human writing, it is not free 
1 from error. But, with a few exceptions, the clear statements ot 
divine truth in the book, and the Christian addresses of the 
author, full of kindness and affection, gentleness and sweetness 
of spirit, draw out your best feelings, and win you over to evan- 
gelical principles." 

My last witness shall be Daniel Wilson, Bishop of Calcutta. 
He says in his Journal, July 24, 1846: " I have been reading 
tranquilly and pleasantly a volume of Hervey's Letters, full of 
that thorough devotedness of heart, deadness to all earthly 
things, and longings after grace and holiness, which character- 
ized the leaders of the revival in our church. — Oh! that the 
spirit of Hervey might pervade our younger clergy and myself. 
To walk with God is the only spring of happiness and use- 
fulness." 

Testimonies like these deserve serious attention. My firm 
belief is, that they are well deserved. 




XII. 

Copfabp mib Ijb Ipmsirg. 

Horn at Farnham, 1740 — Ordained, 1762 — Vicar of Broad Hembury, Devonshire, 1768 — 
Removes to London, 1775 — Dies, 1778 — Conversion, 1756 — His Preaching — His Writ- 
ings as a Controversialist — His Hymns. 

PERFECT orchestra contains many various instru- 
ments of music. Each of these instruments has its 
own merit and value; but some of them are curiously 
unlike others. Some of them are dependent on a player's 
breath, and some on his skill of hand. Some of them are large, 
and some of them are small. Some of them produce very 
gentle sounds, and some of them very loud. But all of them 
are useful in their place and way. Composers like Handel, and 
Mozart, and Mendelssohn, find work for all. There is work 
for the flageolet as well as for the trumpet, and work for the 
violoncello as well as for the organ. Separately and alone, 
some of the instruments may appear harsh and unpleasant. 
Combined together and properly played, they fill the ear with 
one mighty volume of harmonious sounds. 

Thoughts such as these come across my mind when I survey 
the spiritual champions of England a hundred years ago. I see 
among the leaders of religious revival in that day men of singu- 
larly varied characteristics. They were each in their way emi- 
nent instruments for good in the hands of the Holy Ghost. 
From each of them sounded forth the word of God throughout 
the land with no uncertain sound. Yet some of these good 
men were strangely compounded, peculiarly constituted, and 



BIR TH OF A UG US TUS M. TO PL A DY. 359 

oddly framed. And to none, perhaps, does the remark apply 
more thoroughly than to the subject of these remarks, the well- 
known hymn-writer, Augustus Toplady. 

I should think no account of English religion in the last cen- 
tury complete which did not supply some information about this 
remarkable man. In some respects, I am bold to say, not one 
of his contemporaries surpassed him, and hardly any equalled 
him. He was a man of rare grace and gifts, and one who left 
his mark very deeply on his own generation. For soundness 
in the faith, singleness of eye, and devotedness of life, he de- 
serves to be ranked with Whitefield, or Grimshaw, or Romaine. 
Yet with all this, he was a man in whom there was a most 
extraordinary mixture of grace and infirmity. Hundreds, un- 
, happily, know much of his infirmities who know little of his 
graces. I shall endeavour in the following pages to supply 
i a few materials for forming a just estimate of his character. 
Augustus Montague Toplady was born at Farnham, in Surrey, 
on the 4th of November 1740. He was the only son of Major 
1 Richard Toplady, who died at the siege of Carthagena shortly 
i after his birth, so that he never saw his father. His mother's 
maiden name was Catherine Bates, of whom nothing is known 
except that she had a brother who was rector of St. Paul's, 
Deptford. About the history of his family I can discover 
nothing. I only conjecture that some of them must have been 
i natives of Ireland. Who his parents were, and what they 
were doing at Farnham, when he was born, and what kind of 
' people they were, are all matters about which no record seems 
to exist. 

Few spiritual heroes of the last century, I must freely con-' 

fess, have suffered more from the want of a good biographer 

, than Toplady. Be the cause what it may, a real life of the 

I man .was never written. The only memoir of him is as meagre 

I a production as can possibly be conceived. It is perhaps only 

fair to remember that he was an only child, and that he died 



360 HIS ORDINATION. 

unmarried ; so that he had neither brother, sister, son nor 
daughter, to gather up his remains. Moreover, he was one 
who lived much in his study and among his books, spent 
much time in private communion with God, and went very 
little into society. Like Romaine, he was not what the world 
would call a genial man — had very few intimate friends — and 
was, probably, more feared and admired than loved. But be 
the reasons what they may, the fact is undeniable that there 
is no good biography of Toplady. The result is, that there is 
hardly any man of his calibre in the last century of whom so 
very little is known. 

The principal facts of Toplady' s life are few, and soon told. 
He was brought up by his widowed mother with the utmost 
care and tenderness, and retained throughout life a deep and 
grateful sense of his obligations to her. For some reason, 
which we do not know now, she appears to have settled at 
Exeter after her husband's death; and to this circumstance 
we may probably trace her son's subsequent appointment to 
cures of souls in Devonshire. Young Toplady was sent at an 
early age to Westminster School, and showed considerable 
ability there. After passing through Westminster, he was 
entered as a student of Trinity College, Dublin, and took his 
degree there as Bachelor of Arts. He was ordained a clergy- 
man in the year 1762; but I am unable to ascertain where, or 
by what bishop he was ordained. Shortly after his ordination 
he was appointed to the living of Blagdon, in Somersetshire, 
but did not hold it long. He was then appointed to Venn- 
Ottery, with Harpford, in Devonshire, a small parish near Sid- 
mouth. This post he finally exchanged, in 1768, for the rural 
parish of Broad Hembury, near Honiton, in Devonshire, a 
cure which he retained until his death. In the year 1775 he 
was compelled, by the state of his health, to remove from 
Devonshire to London, and became for a short time preacher 
at a Chapel in Orange Street, Leicester Square. He seems, 



HIS CONVERSION. 361 

however, to have derived no material benefit from the change 
of climate; and at last died of decline, like Walker and Hervey, 
in the year 1778, at the early age of thirty-eight. 

The story of Toplady's inner life and religious history is 
simple and short; but it presents some features of great interest. 
The work of God seems to have begun in his heart, when he 
was only sixteen years old, under the following circumstances. 
He was staying at a place called Codymain, in Ireland, and 
was there led by God's providence to hear a layman named 
Morris preach in a barn. The text — Ephesians ii. 13, "Ye 
who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of 
Christ " — and the address founded on it, came home to young 
Toplady's conscience with such power, that from that time he 
became a new man, and a thorough-going professor of vital 
Christianity. This was in August 1756. 

He himself in after-life referred frequently to the circum- 
stance of his conversion with special thankfulness. He says 
in 1768: "Strange that I, who had so long sat under the 
means of grace in England, should be brought nigh to God in 
an obscure part of Ireland, amidst a handful of God's people 
met together in a barn, and under the ministry of one who 
could hardly spell his name ! Surely it was the Lord's doing, 
and is marvellous ! The excellency of such power must be of 
God, and cannot be of man. The regenerating Spirit breathes 
not only on whom, but likewise when, where, and as he listeth." 

Although converted and made a new creature in Christ 
Jesus, Toplady does not seem to have come to a full know- 
ledge of the gospel in all its perfection for at least two years. 
Like most of God's children, he had to fight his way into full 
light through many defective opinions, and was only by slow 
degrees brought to complete establishment in the faith. His 
experience in this matter, be it remembered, is only that of the 
vast majority of true Christians. Like infants, when they are 
born into the world, God's children are not born again in the 



362 GRADUALL Y ENLIGHTENED. 

full possession of all their spiritual faculties ; and it is well 
and wisely ordered that it is so. What we win easily, we sel- 
dom value sufficiently. The very fact that believers have to 
struggle and fight hard before they get hold of real soundness 
in the faith, helps to make them prize it more when they have 
attained it. The truths that cost us a battle are precisely 
those which we grasp most firmly, and never let go. 

Toplady's own account of his early experience on this point 
is distinct and explicit. He says : "Though awakened in 1756, 
I was not led into a clear and full view of all the doctrines of 
grace till the year 1758, when, through the great goodness of 
God, my Arminian prejudices received an effectual shock in 
reading Dr. Manton's sermons on the seventeenth chapter of 
St. John. I shall remember the years 1756 and 1758 with 
gratitude and joy in the heaven of heavens to all eternity." 

In the year 1774, Toplady gave the following curious account 
of his experience at this period of his life : — " It pleased God 
to deliver me from the Arminian snare before I was quite 
eighteen. Up to that period there was not (I confess it with 
abasement) a more haughty and violent free-wilier within the 
compass of the four seas. One instance of my warm and ignorant 
zeal occurs now to my memory. About a year before divine 
goodness gave me eyes to discern and a heart to embrace the 
truth, I was haranguing one day in company on the universality 
of grace and the power of free agency. A good old gentleman, 
now with God, rose from his chair, and coming to me, held me 
by one of my coat-buttons, while he mildly said : — ' My dear 
sir, there are marks of spirituality in your conversation, though 
tinged with an unhappy mixture of pride and self-righteousness. 
You have been speaking largely in favour of free-will ; but from 
arguments let us come to experience. Do let me ask you one 
question, How was it with you when the Lord laid hold on you 
in effectual calling? Had you any hand in obtaining that 
grace? Nay, would you not have resisted and baffled it, if 



CA L VIN1S TIC IN HIS VIE WS. 3 6 3 

Cod's Spirit had left you alone in the hand of your own counsel? ' 
— I felt the conclusiveness of these simple but forcible ^interro- 
gations more strongly than 1 was then willing to acknowledge. 
But, blessed be God, I have since been enabled to acknowledge 
the freeness of his grace, and to sing, what I trust will be my 
everlasting song, ' Not unto me, Lord, ?iot unto me; but unto thy 
name give the glory.'' " 

From this time to the end of his life, a period of twenty years, 
Toplady held right onward in his Christian course, and nevei 
seems to have swerved or turned aside for a single day. His 
attachment to Calvinistic views of theology grew with his 
growth, and strengthened with his strength, and undoubtedly 
made him think too hardly of all who favoured Arminianism. 
It is more than probable, too, that it gave him the reputation 
of being a narrow-minded and sour divine, and made many 
keep aloof from him, and depreciate him. But no one ever 
pretended to doubt his extraordinary devotedness and single- 
ness of eye, or to question his purity and holiness of life. From 
one cause or another, however, he appears always to have stood 
alone, and to have had little intercourse with his fellow-men. 
The result was, that throughout life he appears to have been 
little known and little understood, but most loved where he was 
most known. 

One would like much to hear what young Toplady was doing 
between the date of his conversion in 1756, and his ordination 
in 1762. We can only guess, from the fact that he studied 
Manton on the seventeenth of John before he was eighteen, that 
he was probably reading hard, and storing his mind with know- 
ledge, which he turned to good account in after-life. But there 
is an utter dearth of all information about our hero at this period 
of his life. We only know that he took upon himself the office 
of a minister, not only as scholar, and as an outward professor 
of religion, but as an honest man. He says himself, that " he 
subscribed the articles and liturgy from principle ; and that he 



364 LETTER TO LADY HUNTINGDON. 

did not believe them merely because he subscribed them, but 
subscribed them because he believed them." 

One would like, furthermore, to know exactly where he began 
his ministry, and in what parish he was first heard as a preacher 
of the gospel. But I can find out nothing about these points. 
One interesting fact about his early preaching I gather from a 
curious letter which he wrote to Lady Huntingdon in 1774. In 
that letter he says : " As to the doctrines of special and dis- 
criminating grace, I have thus much to observe. For the first 
four years after I was in orders, I dwelt chiefly on the general 
outlines of the gospel in this remote corner of my public 
ministry. I preached of little else but of justification by faith 
only, in the righteousness and atonement of Christ, and of that 
personal holiness without which no man shall see the Lord. 
My reasons for thus narrowing the truths of God were these 
two (I speak it with humiliation and repentance) : — 1. I thought 
these points were sufficient to convey as clear an idea as was 
absolutely necessary of salvation ; 2. And secondly, I was partly 
afraid to go any further. 

" God himself (for none but he could do it) gradually freed 
me from that fear. And as he never at any time permitted me 
to deliver, or even to insinuate anything contradictory to his 
truth, so has he been graciously pleased, for seven or eight 
years past, to open my mouth to make known the entire 
mystery of the gospel, as far as his Spirit has enlightened me 
into it. The consequence of my first plan of operations was, 
that the generality of my hearers were pleased, but only few 
were converted. The result of my latter deliverance from 
worldly wisdom and worldly fear is, that multitudes have been 
very angry ; but the conversions which God has given me reason 
to hope he has wrought, have been at least three for one before. 
Thus I can testify, so far as I have been concerned, the useful- 
ness of preaching predestination ; or, in other words, of tracing 
salvation and redemption to their first source." 



READY-MADE SERMONS. 365 

Aii anecdote related by Toplady himself deserves repetition, 
as a curious illustration of the habits of clergymen at the time 
when he was ordained, and his superiority to the habits of his 
contemporaries. He says : " I was buying some books in the 
spring of 1762, a month or two before I was ordained, from a 
very respectable London bookseller. After the business was 
over, he took me to the furthest end of his long shop, and said 
in a low voice, * Sir, you will soon be ordained, and I suppose 
you have not laid in a very great stock of sermons. I can 
supply you with as many sets as you please, all original, very 
excellent ones, and they will come for a trifle.' My answer 
was : ' I certainly shall never be a customer to you in that way ; 
for I am of opinion that the man who cannot, or will not 
make his own sermons, is quite unfit to wear the gown. How 
could you think of my buying ready-made sermons 1 I would 
much sooner buy ready-made clothes." His answer shocked 
me. ' Nay, young gentleman, do not be surprised at my offer- 
ing you ready-made sermons, for I assure you I have sold ready- 
made sermons to many a bishop in my time.' My reply was : 
' My good sir, if you have any concern for the credit of the 
Church of England, never tell that news to anybody else hence- 
forward for ever.' " 

The manner of Toplady's life, during the fifteen or sixteen 
years of his short ministry may be gathered from a diary which 
he wrote in 1768, and kept up for about a year. This diary is 
a far more interesting record of a good man's life than such 
documents ordinarily are, and gives a very favourable impression 
of the writer's character and habits. It leaves the impression 
that he was eminently a man of one thing, and entirely engrossed 
with his Master's business — much alone, keeping little company, 
and always either preaching, visiting his people, reading, writing, 
or praying. If it had been kept up for a few years longer, it 
would have thrown immense light on many things in Toplady's 
ministerial history. But even in its present state it is the most 



366 HIS LOVE OF STUDY. 

valuable record we possess about him, and there seems no 
reason to doubt that it is a tolerably accurate picture of his 
mode of living from the time of his ordination to his death. 

So little is known of the particular events of the last fifteen 
years of Toplady's life, that it is impossible to do more than 
give a general sketch of his proceedings. He seems to have 
attained a high reputation at a very early date as a thorough- 
going supporter of Calvinistic opinions, and a leading opponent 
of Arminianism. His correspondence shows that he was on 
intimate terms with Lady Huntingdon, Sir R. Hill, Whitefield, 
Romaine, Berridge, Dr. Gill, Ambrose Serle, and other eminent 
Christians of those times. But how and when he formed ac- 
quaintance with them, we have no information. His pen was 
constantly employed in defence of evangelical religion from the 
time of his removal to Broad Hembury in 1768. His early 
habits of study were kept up with unabated diligence. No man 
among the spiritual heroes of last century seems to have read 
more than he did, or to have had a more extensive knowledge 
of divinity. His bitterest adversaries in controversy could never 
deny that he was a scholar, and a ripe one. Indeed, it admits 
of grave question whether he did not shorten his life by his 
habits of constant study. He says himself, in a letter to a 
relative, dated March 19, 1775: — "Though I cannot entirely agree 
with you in supposing that extreme study has been the cause 
of my late indisposition, I must yet confess that the hill of 
science, like that of virtue, is in some instances climbed with 
labour. But when we get a little way up, the lovely prospects 
which open to the eye make infinite amends for the steepness 
of the ascent. In short, I am wedded to these pursuits, as a 
man stipulates to take his wife ; viz., for better, for worse, until 
death us do part. My thirst for knowledge is literally inextin- 
guishable. And if I thus drink myself into a superior world, I 
cannot help it." 

One feature in Toplady's character, I may here remark, can 



REMOVES TO LONDON. 367 

hardly fail to strike an attentive reader of his remains. That 
feature is the eminent spirituality of the tone of his religion. 
There can be no greater mistake than to regard him as a 
mere student and deep reader, or as a hard and dry contro- 
versial divine. Such an estimate of him is thoroughly unjust. 
His letters and remains supply abundant evidence that he 
was one who lived in very close communion with God, and 
had very deep experience of divine things. Living much 
alone, seldom going into society, and possessing few friends, 
he was a man little understood by many, who only knew him 
by his controversial writings, and specially by his unflinching 
advocacy of Calvinism. Yet really, if the truth be spoken, I 
hardly find any man of the last century who seems to have 
soared so high and aimed so loftily, in his personal dealings 
with his Saviour, as Toplady. There is an unction and savour 
about some of his remains which few of his contemporaries 
equalled, and none surpassed. I grant freely that he left behind 
him many things which cannot be much commended. But he left 
behind him some things which will live, as long as English is 
spoken, in the hearts of all true Christians. His writings contain 
" thoughts that breathe and words that burn," if any writings 
of his age. And it never ought to be forgotten, that the man who 
penned them was lying in his grave before he was thirty-nine ! 

The last three years of Toplady's life were spent in London. 
He removed there by medical advice in the year 1775, under 
the idea that the moist air of Broad Hembury was injurious to 
his health. Whether the advice was sound or not may now, 
perhaps, admit of question. At any rate, the change of climate 
did him no good. Little by little the insidious disease of the 
chest, under which he laboured, made progress, and wasted his 
strength. He was certainly able to preach at Orange Street 
Chapel in the years 1776 and 1777; but it is equally certain 
that throughout this period he was gradually drawing near to 
his end. He was never, perhaps, more thoroughly appreciated 



3<>% BIS LAST ADDRESS. 

than he was during these last three years of his ministry. A 
picked London congregation, such as he had, was able to 
value gifts and powers which were completely thrown away on 
a rural parish in Devonshire. His stores of theological reading 
and distinct doctrinal statement were rightly appraised by his 
metropolitan hearers. In short, if he had lived longer he might, 
humanly speaking, have done a mighty work in London. But 
He who holds the stars in his right hand, and knows best 
what is good for his Church, saw fit to withdraw him soon 
from his new sphere of usefulness. He seemed as if he came 
to London only to be known and highly valued, and then to die. 
The closing scene of the good man's life was singularly beau- 
tiful, and at the same time singularly characteristic. He died 
as he had lived, in the full hope and peace of the gospel, and 
with an unwavering confidence in the truth of the doctrines 
which he had for fifteen years advocated both with his tongue 
and with his pen. About two months before his death he was 
greatly pained by hearing that he was reported to have receded 
from his Calvinistic opinions, and to have expressed a desire to 
recant them in the presence of Mr. John Wesley. So much 
was he moved by this rumour, that he resolved to appear 
before his congregation once more, and to give a public 
denial to it before he died. His physician in vain remonstrated 
with him. He was told that it would be dangerous to make 
the attempt, and that he might probably die in the pulpit. But 
the vicar of Broad Hembury was not a man to be influenced by 
such considerations. He replied that " he would rather die in 
the harness than die in the stall." He actually carried his 
resolution into effect. On Sunday, June the 14th, in the last 
stage of consumption, and only two months before he died, he 
ascended his pulpit in Orange Street Chapel, after his assistant 
had preached, to the astonishment of his people, and gave a 
short but affecting exhortation founded on 2 Pet. i. 13, 14: "I 
think it meet, as long as I am in this tabernacle, to stir you up 



HIS LA TTER DA YS. 369 

by putting you in remembrance." He then closed his address 
with the following remarkable declaration : — 

" It having been industriously circulated by some malicious 
and unprincipled persons that during my present long and 
severe illness I expressed a strong desire of seeing Mr. John 
Wesley before I die, and revoking some particulars relative to 
him which occur in my writings, — Now I do publicly and most 
solemnly aver that I have not nor ever had any such intention 
or desire ; and that I most sincerely hope my last hours will be 
much better employed than in communing with such a man. 
So certain and so satisfied am I of the truth of all that I have 
ever written, that were I now sitting up in my dying bed with a 
pen and ink in my hand, and all the religious and controversial 
writings I ever published, especially those relating to Mr. John 
Wesley and the Arminian controversy, whether respecting fact 
or doctrine, could be at once displayed to my view, I should 
not strike out a single line relative to him or them." 

The last days of Toplady's life were spent in great peace. He 
went down the valley of the shadow of death with abounding 
consolations, and was enabled to say many edifying things to 
all around him. The following recollections, jotted down by 
friends who ministered to him, and communicated to his bio- 
grapher, can hardly fail to be interesting to a Christian reader. 

One friend observes : — " A remarkable jealousy was apparent 
in his whole conduct as he drew near his end, for fear of receiv- 
ing any part of that honour which is due to Christ alone. 
He desired to be nothing, and that Jesus might be all and in all. 
His feelings were so very tender upon this subject, that I once 
undesignedly put him almost in an agony by remarking the great 
loss which the Church of Christ would sustain by his death at 
this particular juncture. The utmost distress was immediately 
visible in his countenance, and he exclaimed, ' What ! by my 
death 1 No, no ! Jesus Christ is able, and will, by proper 
instruments, defend his own truths. And with regard to what 
.195) 24 



37° HIS FIRM CONFIDENCE. 

little I have been enabled to do in this way, not to me, not to 
me, but to his own name, and to that only, be the glory.' 

" The more his bodily strength was impaired the more vigor- 
ous, lively, and rejoicing his mind seemed to be. From the 
whole turn of his conversation during our interview, he appeared 
not merely placid and serene, but he evidently possessed the 
fullest assurance of the most triumphant faith. He repeatedly 
told me that he had not had the least shadow of a doubt 
respecting his eternal salvation for near two years past. It is 
no wonder, therefore, that he so earnestly longed to be dissolved 
and to be with Christ. His soul seemed to be constantly 
panting heavenward, and his desire increased the nearer his 
dissolution approached. A short time before his death, at his 
request, I felt his pulse, and he desired to know what I thought 
of it. I told him that his heart and arteries evidently beat 
almost every day weaker and weaker. He replied immediately, 
with the sweetest smile on his countenance, ' Why, that is a 
good sign that my death is fast approaching ; and, blessed be 
God, I can add that my heart beats every day stronger and 
stronger for glory.' 

"A few days before his dissolution I found him sitting up in 
his arm-chair, but scarcely able to move or speak. I addressed 
him very softly, and asked if his consolations continued to abound 
as they had hitherto done. He quickly replied, ' O my dear 
sir, it is impossible to describe how good God is to me. Since 
I have been sitting in this chair this afternoon I have enjoyed 
such a season, such sweet communion with God, and such 
delightful manifestation of his presence with and love to my 
soul, that it is impossible for words or any language to express 
them. I have had peace and joy unutterable, and I fear not 
but that God's consolation and support will continue.' But he 
immediately recollected himself, and added, 'What have I 
said 1 God may, to be sure, as a sovereign, hide his face and 
his smiles from me ; however, I believe he will not ; and if he 



HIS DEATH. 371 

should, yet will I trust him. I know I am safe and secure, for 
his love and his covenant are everlasting !'" 

To another friend, speaking about his dying avowal in the 
pulpit of his church in Orange Street, he said : " My dear 
friend, these great and glorious truths which fhe Lord in rich 
mercy has given me to believe, and which he has enabled me 
(though very feebly) to defend, are not, as those who oppose 
them say, dry doctrines or mere speculative points. No ! being 
brought into practical and heartfelt experience, they are the 
very joy and support of my soul; and the consolations flowing 
from them carry me far above the things of time and sense. 
So far as I know my own heart, I have no desire but to be 
entirely passive, to live, to die, to be, to do, to suffer whatever 
is God's blessed will concerning me, being perfectly satisfied 
that as he ever has, so he ever will do that which is best con- 
cerning me, and that he deals out in number, weight, and 
measure, whatever will conduce most to his own glory and to 
the good of his people." 

Another of his friends mentioning the report that was spread 
abroad of his recanting his former principles, he said with some 
vehemence and emotion, " I recant my former principles ! God 
forbid that I should be so vile an apostate ! " To which he 
presently added, with great apparent humility, " And yet that 
apostate I should soon be, if I were left' to myself." 

Within an hour of his death, he called his friends and his 
servant to him, and asked them if they could give him up. 
Upon their answering that they could, since it pleased the Lord 
to be so gracious to him, he replied : " Oh, what a blessing it 
is that you are made willing to give me up into the hands of 
my dear Redeemer, and to part with me ! It will not be long 
before God takes me ; for no mortal man can live, after the 
glories which God has manifested to my soul." Soon after this 
he closed his eyes, and quietly fell asleep in Christ on Tuesday, 
August 11, 1778, in the thirty-eighth year of his age. 



37 2 HIS BURIAL. 

He was buried in Tottenham Court Chapel, under the gal- 
lery, opposite the pulpit, in the presence of thousands of people, 
who came together from all parts of London to do him honour. 
His high reputation as a champion of truth, the unjust misre- 
presentations circulated about his change of opinion, his effec- 
tiveness as a preacher, and his comparative youthfulness, 
combined to draw forth a more than ordinary expression of 
sympathy. " Devout men carried him to his burial, and made 
great lamentation over him." Foremost among the mourners 
was one at that time young in the ministry, who lived long 
enough to be a connecting link between the last century 
and the present — the well-known and eccentric Rowland Hill. 
Before the burial-service commenced, he could not refrain from 
transgressing one of Toplady's last requests, that no funeral- 
sermon should be preached for him, and affectionately declared 
to the vast assembly the love and veneration he felt for the 
deceased, and the high sense he entertained of his graces, gifts, 
and usefulness. And thus, amidst the tears and thanksgivings 
of true-hearted mourners, the much-abused vicar of Broad Hem- 
bury was gathered to his people.* 

The following passage from Toplady's last will, made and 
signed six months before his decease, is so remarkable and 
characteristic, that I cannot refrain from giving it to my readers : 
" I most humbly commit my soul to Almighty God, whom I 
honour, and have long experienced to be my ever gracious and 
infinitely merciful Father. Nor have I the least doubt of my 
election, justification, and eternal happiness, through the riches 
of his everlasting and unchangeable kindness to me in Christ 
Jesus, his co-equal Son, my only, my assured, and my all-suffi- 
cient Saviour ; washed in whose propitiatory blood, and clothed 
with whose imputed righteousness, I trust to stand perfect, 



* It is a curious fact that Toplady expressly desired that he might be buried at lea=t 
nine feet, and, if possible, twelve feet, under ground ! He assigned no reason. Perhaps 
it was because he wished to be buried inside his church. 



Q UO TA TION FR OM HIS WILL. 373 

sinless, and complete ; and do verily believe that I most cer- 
tainly shall so stand, in the hour of death, and in the kingdom 
of heaven, and at the last judgment, and in the Ultimate state 
of endless glory. Neither can I write this my last will without 
rendering the deepest, the most solemn, and the most ardent 
thanks to the adorable Trinity in Unity, for their eternal, 
unmerited, irreversible, and inexhaustible love to me a sinner. 
I bless God the Father for having written from everlasting my 
unworthy name in the book of life — even for appointing me to 
obtain salvation through Jesus Christ my Lord. I adore God 
the Son for having vouchsafed to redeem me by his own most 
precious death, and for having obeyed the whole law for my 
justification. I admire and revere the gracious benignity of 
God the Holy Ghost, who converted me to the saving know- 
ledge of Christ more than twenty-two years ago, and whose 
enlightening, supporting, comforting, and sanctifying agency is, 
and (I doubt not) will be my strength and song in the hours of 
my earthly pilgrimage." 

Having now traced Toplady's history from his cradle to his 
grave, it only remains for me to offer some general estimate of 
his worth and attainments. To do this, I frankly confess, is no 
easy task. Not only is his biography a miserably deficient one 
— this alone is bad enough — but his literary remains have been 
edited in such a slovenly, careless, ignorant manner, without 
order or arrangement, that they do not fairly represent the 
author's merits. Certainly the reputation of great writers and 
ministers may suffer sadly from the treatment of injudicious 
friends. If ever there was a man who fell into the hands of the 
Philistines after his death, that man, so far as I can judge, was 
Augustus Toplady. I shall do the best I can with the mate- 
rials at my disposal ; but I trust my readers will remember that 
they are exceedingly scanty. 

i. As a preacher ; I should be disposed to assign to Toplady 
a very high place among the second-class men of the last cen- 



374 TO PL A DY AS A PRE A CHER. 

tury. His constitutional delicacy and weakness of lungs, in all 
probability, made it impossible for him to do the things that 
Whitefield and Berridge did. Constant open-air addresses, 
impassioned extempore appeals to thousands of hearers, were 
a style of thing entirely out of his line. Yet there is pretty good 
evidence that he had no mean reputation as a pulpit orator, 
and possessed no mean powers. The mere fact that Lady 
Huntingdon occasionally selected him to preach in her chapels 
at Bath and Brighton, of itself speaks volumes. The additional 
fact that at one of the great Methodist gatherings at Trevecca 
he was put forward as one of the leading preachers, is enough 
to show that his sermons possessed high merit. The follow- 
ing notes about preaching, which he records in his diary, as 
having received them from an old friend, will probably throw 
much light on the general turn of his ministrations : — (i.) Preach 
Christ crucified, and dwell chiefly on the blessings resulting 
from his righteousness, atonement, and intercession. (2.) Avoid 
all needless controversies in the pulpit ; except it be when your 
subject necessarily requires it, or when the truths of God are 
likely to suffer by your silence. (3.) When you ascend the 
pulpit, leave your learning behind you : endeavour to preacli 
more to the hearts of your people than to their heads. (4.) Do. 
not affect much oratory. Seek rather to profit than to be 
admired. 

Specimens ofToplady's ordinary preaching are unfortunately 
very rare. There are but ten sermons in the collection of his 
works, and out of these the great majority were preached on 
special occasions, and cannot, therefore, be regarded as fair 
samples of his pulpit work. In all of them there is a certain 
absence of fire, animation, and directness. But in all there is 
abundance of excellent matter, and a quiet, decided, knock- 
down, sledge-hammer style of putting things which, I can well 
believe, would be extremely effective, and especially with edu- 
cated congregations. The three following extracts may perhaps 



EXTRA CT FROM SERMON. 3 7 5 

give some idea of what Toplady was in the pulpit of Orange 
Street Chapel. Of his ministry in Broad Hembury, I suspect 
we know next to nothing at all. 

The first extract forms the conclusion of a sermon preached 
in 1774 at the Lock Chapel, entitled " Good News from 
Heaven :" — " I perceive the elements are upon the sacramental 
table. And I doubt not many of you mean to present your- 
selves at that throne of grace which God has mercifully erected 
through the righteousness and sufferings of his co-equal Son. 
Oh, beware of coming with one sentiment on your lips and 
another in your hearts ! Take heed of saying with your mouths, 
' We do not come to this thy table, O Lord, trusting in our 
own righteousness,' while perhaps you have in reality some 
secret reserves in favour of that very self-righteousness which 
you profess to renounce, and are thinking that Christ's merits 
alone will not save you unless you add something or other to 
make it effectual. Oh, be not so deceived ! God will not thus 
be mocked, nor will Christ thus be insulted with impunity. 
Call your works what you will — whether terms, causes, condi- 
tions, or supplements — the matter comes to the same point, 
and Christ is equally thrust out of his mediatorial throne by 
these or any similar views of human obedience. If you do not 
wholly depend on Jesus as the Lord your righteousness — if you 
mix your faith in him with anything else — if the finished work 
of the crucified God be not alone your acknowledged anchor 
and foundation of acceptance with the Father, both here and 
ever — come to his table and receive the symbols of his body 
and blood at your peril ! Leave your own righteousness behind 
you, or you have no business here. You* are without the wed- 
ding garment, and God will say to you, ' Friend, how earnest 
thou here 1 ?' If you go on, moreover, to live and die in this 
state of unbelief, you will be found speechless and excuseless in 
the day of judgment ; and the slighted Saviour will say to his 
angels concerning you, ' Bind him hand and foot, and cast him 



37 6 SERMON ON FREE WILL. 

into outer darkness, .... for many are called, but few are 
chosen." 

My second extract is from a sermon on " Free Will," preached 
at St. Anne's, Blackfriars, in 1774: — "I know it is growing 
very fashionable to talk against spiritual feelings. But I dare 
not join the cry. On the contrary, I adopt the apostle's 
prayer that our love to God and the manifestation of his love 
to us may abound yet more and more in knowledge and in all 
feeling. And it is no enthusiastic wish in behalf of you and 
myself, that we may be of the number of those godly persons 
who, as our Church justly expresses it, ' feel in themselves the 
workings of the Spirit of Christ, mortifying the works of the 
flesh, and drawing up their minds to high and heavenly things.' 
Indeed, the great business of God's Spirit is to draw up and to 
bring down — to draw up our affections to Christ, and to bring 
down the unsearchable riches of grace into our hearts. The 
knowledge of this, and earnest desire for it, are all the feelings 
I plead for ; and for these feelings I wish ever to plead, satis- 
fied as I am that without some experience and enjoyment of 
them we cannot be happy living or dying. 

" Let me ask you, as it were one by one, has the Holy Spirit 
begun to reveal these deep things of God in your soul % If so, 
give him the glory of it. And as you prize communion with 
him, as ever you value the comforts of the Holy Ghost, endea- 
vour to be found in God's way, even the highway of humble 
faith and obedient love, sitting at the feet of Christ, and im- 
bibing those sweet sanctifying communications of grace which 
are at once an earnest of and a preparation for complete heaven 
when you die. God forbid that we should ever think lightly of 
religious feelings. If we do not in some measure feel ourselves 
sinners, and feel that Christ is precious, I doubt the Spirit of 
God has never been savingly at work upon our souls." 

My last extract shall be from a sermon preached at St. Anne's, 
Blackfriars (Romaine's church, be it remembered), in 1770, 



TO PL A DY AS A WRITER. 3 7 7 

entitled, "A Caveat against Unsound Doctrine:" — "Faith is 
the eye of the soul, and the eye is said to see almost every 
object but itself; so that you may have real faith without being 
able to discern it. God will not despise the day of small things. 
Little faith goes to heaven no less than great faith ; though not 
so comfortably, yet altogether as surely. If you come merely 
as a sinner to Jesus, and throw yourself, at all events, for salva- 
tion on his alone blood and righteousness, and the grace and 
promise of God in him, thou art as truly a believer as the most 
triumphant saint that ever lived. Amidst all your weakness, 
distresses, and temptations, remember that God will not cast 
out nor cast off the meanest and unworthiest soul that seeks 
salvation only in the name of Jesus Christ the righteous. When 
you cannot follow the Rock, the Rock shall follow you, nor 
ever leave you for a single moment on this side the heavenly 
Canaan. If you feel your absolute want of Christ, you may on 
all occasions and in every exigence betake yourself to the 
covenant-love and faithfulness of God for pardon, sanctification, 
and safety, and with the same fulness of right and title as a 
traveller leans upon his own staff, or as a weary labourer throws 
himself upon his own bed, or as an opulent nobleman draws 
upon his own banker for whatsoever sum he wants." 

I make no comment on these extracts. They speak for 
themselves. Most Christians, I suspect, will agree with me, 
that the man who could speak to congregations in this fashion 
was no ordinary preacher. The hearers of such sermons could 
never say, " The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed." I 
am bold to say that the Church of the nineteenth century would 
be in a far more healthy condition if it had more preaching like 
Toplady's. 

2. As a writer of miscellaneous papers on religious subjects, I 
do not think Toplady has ever been duly appreciated. His pen 
seems to have been never idle, and his collected works contain 
a large number of short useful essays on a great variety of sub- 



TOPLADY AS A COX TROVE RSI A LIST. 

iects. Any one who takes the trouble to look at them will oe 
surprised to find that the worthy vicar of Broad Hembury was 
conversant with many things beside the Calvinistic contro- 
versy, and could write about them in a very interesting manner. 
He will find short and well-written biographies of Bishop Jewell, 
Bishop Carleton, Bishop Wilson, John Knox, Fox the Martyr- 
oiogist, Lord Harrington, Witsius, Allsop, and Dr. Watts. He 
will find a very valuable collection of extracts from the works 
oi eminent Christians, and of anecdotes, incidents, and historical 
passages, gathered by Toplady himself. He will find a sketch 
of natural history, and some curious observations on birds, 
meteors, animal sagacity, and the solar system. These papers, 
no doubt, are of various merit ; but they all shew the singulai 
activity and fertility of the author's mind, and are certainly far 
more deserving of republication than many of the reprints of 
modern days. Of Toplady' s "Family Prayers" I shall say 
nothing. They are probably so well known that I need noi 
commend them. Of his seventy-eight letters to friends, I will 
only say that they are excellent specimens of the correspondence 
of the last century — sensible, well composed, full of thought and 
matter, and supplying abundant proof that their writer was a 
Christian, a scholar, and a gentleman. I cannot, however, do 
more than refer to all these productions of Toplady's pen. 
Those who wish to know more must examine his works for 
themselves. If they do, I venture to predict that they will 
agree with me that his miscellaneous writings are neither suffi- 
ciently known nor valued. 

3. As a controversialist, I find it rather difficult to give a right 
estimate of Toplady. In fact, the subject is a painful one, and 
one which I would gladly avoid. But I feel that I should not 
be dealing fairly and honestly with my readers, if I did not say 
something about it. In fact, the vicar of Broad Hembury took 
such a very prominent part in the doctrinal controversies of last 
century, and was so thoroughly recognized as the champion 



HIS WRITINGS SOUND AND SCRIPTURAL. 379 

and standard-bearer of Calvinistic theology, that no memoir of 
him could be regarded as complete, which did not take up this 
part of his character. 

I begin by saying that, on the whole, Toplady's controversial 
writings appear to me to be in principle scriptural, sound, and 
true. I do not, for a moment, mean that I can endorse all he 
says. I consider that his statements are often extreme, and 
that he is frequently more systematic and narrow than the Bible. 
He often seems to me, in fact, to go further than Scripture, and 
to draw conclusions which Scripture has not drawn, and to 
settle points which for some wise reason Scripture has not 
settled. Still, for all this, I will never shrink from saying that 
the cause for which Toplady contended all his life was decidedly 
the cause of God's truth. He was a bold defender of Calvinistic 
views about election, predestination, perseverance, human im- 
potency, and irresistible grace. On all these subjects I hold 
firmly that Calvin's theology is much more scriptural than the 
theology of Arminius. In a word, I believe that Calvinistic 
divinity is the divinity of the Bible, of Augustine, and of the 
Thirty-nine Articles of my own Church, and of the Scotch Con- 
fession of Faith. While, therefore, I repeat that I cannot 
endorse all the sentiments of Toplady's controversial writings, 
I do claim for them the merit of being in principle scriptural, 
sound, and true. Well would it be for the Churches, if we had 
a good deal more of clear, distinct, sharply-cut doctrine in the 
present day ! Vagueness and indistinctness are marks of our 
degenerate condition. 

But I go further than this. I do not hesitate to say that 
Toplady's controversial works display extraordinary ability. 
For example, his " Historic Proof of the Doctrinal Calvinism 
of the Church of England" is a treatise that displays a prodi- 
gious amount of research and reading. It is a book that no 
one could have written who had not studied much, thought 
much, and thoroughly investigated an enormous mass of theo- 



380 HIS VIOLENT IANGUAGE. 

logical literature. You see at once that the author has 
completely digested what he has read, and is able to concen- 
trate all his reading on every point which he handles. The 
best proof of the book's ability is the simple fact that down to 
the present day it has never been really answered. It has been 
reviled, sneered at, abused, and held up to scorn. But abuse 
is not argument. The book remains to this hour unanswered, 
and that for the simplest of all reasons, that it is unanswerable. 
It proves irrefragably, whether men like it or not, that Calvinism 
is the doctrine of the Church of England, and that all her lead- 
ing divines, until Laud's time, were Calvinists. All this is done 
logically, clearly, and powerfully. No one, I venture to think, 
could read the book through, and not feel obliged to admit that 
the author was an able man. 

While, however, I claim for Toplady's controversial writings 
the merit of soundness and ability, I must with sorrow admit 
that I cannot praise his spirit and language when speaking of his 
opponents. I am obliged to confess that he often uses expres- 
sions about them so violent and so bitter, that one feels per- 
fectly ashamed. Never, I regret to say, did an advocate of 
truth appear to me so entirely to forget the text, " In meekness 
instructing those that oppose themselves," as the vicar of Broad 
Hembury. Arminianism seems to have precisely the same 
effect on him that a scarlet cloak has on a bull. He appears to 
think it impossible that an Arminian can be saved, and never 
shrinks with classing Arminians with Pelagians, Socinians, 
Papists, and heretics. He says things about Wesley and Sellon 
which never ought to have been said. All this is melancholy 
work indeed ! But those who are familiar with Toplady's con- 
troversial writings know well that I am stating simple truths. 

I will not stain my paper nor waste my readers' time by sup- 
plying proofs of Toplady's controversial bitterness. It would be 
very unprofitable to do so. The epithets he applies to his 
adversaries are perfectly amazing and astonishing. It must in 



A BEACON TO THE CHURCH. 3 Sl 

fairness be remembered that the language of his opponents was 
exceedingly violent, and was enough to provoke any man. It 
must not be forgotten, moreover, that a hundred years ago men 
said things in controversy that were not considered so bad as 
they are now, from the different standard of taste that prevailed. 
Men were perhaps more honest and outspoken than they are now, 
and their bark was worse than their bite. But all these considera- 
tions only palliate the case. The fact remains, that as a contro- 
versialist Toplady was extremely bitter and intemperate, and 
caused his good to be evil spoken of. He carried the principle, 
" Rebuke them sharply, that they may be sound in the faith," 
to an absurd extreme. He forgot the example of his Master, 
who " when he was reviled, reviled not again ;" and he entirely 
marred the value of his arguments by the violence and uncharit- 
ableness with which he maintained them. Thousands who 
neither cared nor understood anything about his favourite cause, 
could understand that no cause ought to be defended in such a 
spirit and temper. 

I leave this painful subject with the general remark, that 
Toplady is a standing beacon to the Church, to show us the 
evils of controversy. " The beginning of strife is like letting 
out water." " In the multitude of.words there wanteth not sin." 
We must never shrink from controversy, if need be, in defence 
of Christ's gospel, but we must never take it up without jealous 
watchfulness over our own hearts, and over the manner in which 
we carry it on. Above all, we must strive to think as charitably 
as possible of our opponent. It was Calvin himself who said of 
Luther, " He may call me a devil if he will ; but I shall always 
call him a good servant of Jesus Christ." Well would it have 
been for Toplady's reputation, if he had been more like Calvin ! 
Perhaps when we open our eyes in heaven we shall be amazed 
to find how many things there were which both Calvinists and 
Arminians did not thoroughly understand. 

4. There is only one point about Toplady on which I wish 



3 3 2 TOPLA DV AS A HYMN- WRITER. 

to say something, and that is his character as a hymn-writer. 
This is a point, I am thankful to say, on which I find no diffi- 
culty at all. I give it as my decided opinion that he was one 
of the best hymn-writers in the English language. I am 
quite aware that this may seem extravagant praise ; but I 
speak deliberately. I hold that there are no hymns better than 
his. 

Good hymns are an immense blessing to the Church of 
Christ. I believe the last day alone will show the world the 
real amount of good they have done. They suit all, both . rich 
and poor. There is an elevating, stirring, soothing, spiritualizing, 
effect about a thoroughly good hymn, which nothing else can 
produce. It sticks in men's memories when texts are forgotten. 
It trains men for heaven, where praise is one of the principal 
occupations. Preaching and praying shall one day cease for 
ever ; but praise shall never die. The makers of good ballads 
are said to sway national opinion. The writers of good hymns, 
in like manner, are those who leave the deepest marks on the 
face of the Church. Thousands of Christians rejoice in the 
" Te Deum," and " Just as I am," who neither prize the Thirty- 
nine Articles, nor know anything about the first four councils, 
nor understand the Athanasian Creed. 

But really good hymns are exceedingly rare. There are only 
a few men in any age who can write them. You may name 
hundreds of first-rate preachers for one first-rate writer of hymns. 
Hundreds of so-called hymns fill up our collections of congre- 
gational psalmody, which are really not hymns at all. They 
are very sound, very scriptural, very proper, very correct, very 
tolerably rhymed ; but they are not real, live, genuine hymns. 
There is no life about them. At best they are tame, pointless, 
weak, and milk-and-watery. In many cases, if written out 
straight, without respect of lines, they would make excellent 
prose. But poetry they are not. It may be a startling asser- 
tion to some ears to say that there are not more than two 



THEIR BE A UTY AND PA TH OS. 3^3 

hundred first-rate hymns in the English language ; but startling 
as it may sound, I believe it is true. 

Of all English hymn-writers, none, perhaps, have succeeded 
so thoroughly in combining truth, poetry, life, warmth, fire, 
depth, solemnity, and unction, as Toplady has. I pity the man 
who does not know, or, knowing, does not admire those glorious 
hymns of his beginning, " Rock of Ages, cleft for me ;" or, 
"Holy Ghost, dispel our sadness;" or, "A debtor to mercy 
alone ;" or, " Your harps, ye trembling saints ;" or, " Christ, 
whose glory fills the skies;" or, "When languor and disease 
invade ;" or, " Deathless principle, arise." The writer of these 
seven hymns alone has laid the Church under perpetual obliga- 
tions to him. Heretics have been heard in absent moments 
whispering over " Rock of Ages," as if they clung to it when 
they had let slip all things beside. Great statesmen have been 
known to turn it into Latin, as if to perpetuate its fame. The 
only matter of regret is, that the writer of such excellent hymns 
should have written so few. If he had lived longer, written 
more hymns, and handled fewer controversies, his memory would 
have been had in greater honour, and men would have been 
better pleased. 

That hymns of such singular beauty and pathos should have 
come from the same pen which indited such bitter controversial 
writings, is certainly a strange anomaly. I do not pretend -to 
explain it, or to offer any solution. I only lay it before my 
readers as a naked fact. To say the least, it should teach us 
not to be hasty in censuring a man before we know all sides 
of his character. The best saints of God are neither so very 
good, nor the faultiest so very faulty, as they appear. He that 
only reads Toplady's hymns will find it hard to believe that he 
could compose his controversial writings. He that only reads his 
controversial writings will hardly believe that he composed his 
hymns. Yet the fact remains, that the same man composed both. 
Alas ! the holiest among us all is a very poor mixed creature ! 



384 A GREAT AND GOOD MAN. 

I now leave the subject of this chapter here. I ask my 
readers to put a favourable construction on Toplady's life, and 
to judge him with righteous judgment. I fear he is a man who 
has never been fairly estimated, and has never had many friends. 
Ministers of his decided, sharply-cut, doctrinal opinions are 
never very popular. But I plead strongly that Toplady's undeni- 
able faults should never make us forget his equally undeniable 
excellencies. With all his infirmities, I firmly believe that 
he was a good man and a great man, and did a work for Christ 
a hundred years ago, which will never be overthrown. He will 
stand in his lot at the last day in a high place, when many, 
perhaps, whom the world liked better shall be put to shame. 



XIII. 




CHAPTER I. 

Born in Switzerland, 1729 — Educated at Geneva and Leutzburg — Wishes to be a Soldier — 
Becomes a Tutor in England, 1750 — Private Tutor in Mr. Hill's Family, 1752 — Be- 
comes Acquainted with Methodists — Inward Conflict — Ordained 1757 — Vicar of 
Madeley, 1760 — Correspondence with Charles Wesley and Lady Huntingdon. 

BELIEVE that no one ever reads his Bible with atten- 
tion without being struck with the deep beauty of the 
fourteenth chapter of St. John's gospel. I suspect 
that few readers of that marvellous chapter fail to notice the 
wondrous saying of our Lord, " In my Father's house are many 
mansions : if it were not so, I would have told you." Cold and 
dull must be the heart that is not roused and stirred by these 
words. 

This beautiful saying, of late years, has been painfully wrested 
from its true meaning. Men of whom better things might have 
been expected, have misapplied it sadly, and imposed a false 
sense on it. They have dared to say that men of all faiths and 
creeds will find a place in heaven at last ; and that " every man 
shall be saved by the law or sect which he professeth, so that 
he be diligent to frame his mind according to that law and the 
light of nature." They would fain have us believe that the 
inhabitants of heaven will be a mixed body, including heathen 
idolaters and Mohammedans as well as Christians, and compris- 

(1951 25 



3^6 OUR FA THER'S HO USE. 

ing members of every religious denomination in the world, how- 
ever opposite and antagonistic their respective opinions may be. 
Miserable indeed is such theology ! Wretched is the prospect 
which it holds out to us of eternity ! Small could be the har- 
mony in such a heterogeneous assembly! At this rate, heaven 
would be no heaven at all. . 

But we must not allow human misinterpretations to make us 
overlook great truths. It is true, in a most comfortable sense, 
that " in our Father's house there are many mansions," and that 
all who are washed in Christ's blood, and renewed by Christ's 
Spirit, will find a place in heaven, though they may not see eye 
to eye upon earth. There is room in our Father's house for all 
who hold the Head, however much they may differ on points 
of minor importance. There is room for Calvinists and room 
for Arminians, room for Episcopalians and room for Presby- 
terians, room for Thomas Cranmer and room for John Knox, 
room for John Bunyan and room for George Herbert, room for 
Henry Martyn and room for Dr. Judson, room for Edward 
Bickersteth and room for Robert M'Cheyne, room for Chalmers 
of Edinburgh, and room for Daniel Wilson of Calcutta. Yes ! 
thank God, our Father's- house is a very wide one. There is 
room in it for all who are true-hearted believers in the Lord 
Jesus Christ. 

Thoughts such as these come crowding over my mind as I 
take up my pen to write an account of the eleventh spiritual 
hero of the eighteenth century, whom I want to introduce to my 
readers. The man whom I mean is the well-known Fletcher, 
vicar of Madeley. I cannot forget that there was a doctrinal 
gulf between him and my last hero, Toplady, and that while one 
was a Calvinist of Calvinists, the other was an Arminian of 
.Arminians. But I will never shut my eyes to the fact that 
Fletcher was a Christian as well as an Arminian. Mistaken, as 
I think he was, on some points, he was certainly thoroughly 
right on others. He was a man of rare grace, and a minister of 



BIRTH OF JOHN WILLIAM FLETCHER.- 387 

rare usefulness. In short, I think that no account of English 
religion a hundred years ago could be considered just, fair, 
and complete, which did not supply some information about 
Fletcher of Madeley. 

John William Fletcher was a native of Switzerland, and was 
born at Nyon, in that country, on the 12th of September 1729. 
His real name was De La Flechiere, and he is probably known 
by that name among his own countrymen to this day. In 
England, however, he was always called Fletcher, and, for con- 
venience' sake, I shall only speak of him by that name. His 
father was first an officer in the French army, and afterwards a 
colonel in the militia of his own country. The family is said 
to have been one of the most respectable in the canton of 
Berne, and a branch of an earldom of Savoy. 

Fletcher appears to have been remarkable for cleverness even 
when a boy. At the first school which he went to at Geneva, 
he carried away all the prizes, and was complimented by the 
teachers and managers in a very flattering manner. During his 
residence at Geneva, his biographer records that " he allowed 
himself but little time either for recreation, refreshment, or rest. 
After studying hard all day, he would often consume the greater 
part of the night in writing down whatever had occurred in the 
course of his reading which seemed worthy of observation. 
Here he acquired that true classical taste which was so frequently 
and justly admired by his friends, and which all his studied 
plainness could never entirely conceal. Here, also, he laid the 
foundation of that extensive and accurate knowledge for which 
he was afterwards distinguished, both in philosophy and theo- 
logy." 

From Geneva his father sent him to a small Swiss town called 
Leutzburg, where he not only acquired the German language, 
but also diligently prosecuted his former studies. On leaving 
Leutzburg, he continued some time at home, studying the 
Hebrew language, and perfecting his acquaintance with mathe- 



3^8 WISHES TO BE A SOLDIER. 

matics. Such was Fletcher's early training and education. I 
ask the reader's special attention to it. It supplies one among 
many proofs that those who call the leaders of the English 
revival of religion in the last century " poor, ignorant, illiterate 
fanatics," are only exposing their own ignorance. They know 
neither what they say, nor whereof they affirm. In the mere 
matter of learning, Wesley, Romaine, Berridge, Hervey, Top- 
lady, and Fletcher, were second to few men in their day. 

Young Fletcher's education being completed, his parents 
hoped that he would at once turn his attention to the ministry, 
a profession for which they considered him to be eminently 
well fitted. In this expectation, however, they were at first 
curiously disappointed. Partly from a sense of unfitness, partly 
from scruples about the doctrine of predestination, young 
Fletcher announced that he had given up all idea of being 
ordained, and wished to go into the army. His theological 
studies were laid aside for the military works of Vauban and 
Cohorn, and, in spite of all the remonstrances of his friends, he 
seemed determined to become a soldier. 

This strange determination, however, was frustrated by a 
singular train of providences. The same overruling hand which 
would not allow Jonah to go to Tarshish, and sent him to 
Nineveh in spite of himself, was able to prevent the young 
Swiss student carrying out his military intentions. At first, it 
seems, on his parents flatly refusing their consent to his entering 
the army, young Fletcher went away to Lisbon, and, like many 
of his countrymen, offered his services to a foreign flag. At 
Lisbon, on his offer being accepted, he soon gathered a com- 
pany of Swiss recruits, and engaged a passage on board a Por- 
tuguese man-of-war which was about to sail for Brazil. He then 
wrote to his parents, asking them to send him money, but met 
with a decided refusal. Unmoved by this, he determined to go 
without the money, as soon as the ship sailed. But, on the 
morning that he ought to have put to sea, the servant at break- 



OBTAINS A TUTORSHIP. 389 

fast let the kettle fall and scalded his leg so severely that he had 
to keep his bed for a considerable time. In the meanwhile the 
ship sailed for Brazil, and, curiously enough, was never heard of 
any more ! 

Fletcher returned to Switzerland, in no wise shaken or deterred 
by his Lisbon disappointment. Being informed that his uncle, 
then a colonel in the Dutch service, had procured a commission 
for him, he joyfully set out for Flanders. But just at that time 
a peace was concluded, and the continental armies were reduced; 
and his uncle dying shortly after, his expectations were com- 
pletely blasted, and he gave up all thought of being a soldier. 

Being now disengaged from business, and all military pros- 
pects seeming completely at an end, young Fletcher thought it 
would not be amiss to spend a little time in England. He 
arrived in this country, almost totally ignorant of our language, 
sometime in the year 1750, and began at once to inquire for 
some one who could instruct him in the English tongue. For 
this purpose he was recommended to a boarding-school, kept 
by a Mr. Burchell, at South Mimms, and afterwards at Hatfield, 
in Hertfordshire. With this gentleman he remained eighteen 
months, and not only acquired a complete mastery of English, 
but also became exceedingly popular as a clever, amiable, and 
agreeable man, both in his tutor's family and throughout the 
neighbourhood in which he resided. While staying at Mr. 
Burchell's, Mr. Dechamps, a French minister to whom he had 
been recommended, procured him the situation of private tutor 
in the family of Mr. Hill of Tern Hall, in Shropshire. His 
acceptance of this post in the year 1752, in the twenty-second 
year of his age, was the turning-point in his life, and affected 
his whole course, both spiritually and temporally, to the very end 
of his days. 

Up to this time, there is not the slightest evidence that 
Fletcher knew anything of spiritual and experimental religion. 
As a well-educated man, he was of course acquainted with the 



39° REBUKED BY A SERVANT. 

facts and evidences of Christianity. But he appears to have 
been profoundly ignorant of the inward work of the Holy Ghost, 
and of the distinctive doctrines of the gospel of Christ. Hap- 
pily for him, he seems to have been carefully and morally brought 
up, and to have had a good deal of religion of a certain sort 
when he was a boy. From an early period of life, he was 
familiar with the letter of Scripture, and to this circumstance he 
traced his preservation from infidelity, and from many vices into 
which young men too often fall. Beside this, a succession of 
providential escapes from death, which his biographers have 
carefully recorded, undoubtedly had a restraining effect upon 
him. Nevertheless, there is no reason to think that he really 
experienced a work of grace in his heart until he had been 
some time an inmate of Mr. Hill's house. Up to this time he 
had, after a fashion, believed in God and feared God ; but he 
had never felt his love in Christ Jesus shed abroad in his heart 
by the Holy Ghost. He had never really seen his own sinful- 
ness, nor the preciousness of Christ's atoning blood. 

The first thing which awakened Fletcher to a right conviction 
of his fallen state, was the simple remark of a servant in Mr. 
Hill's household. This man, coming up into his room one 
Sunday evening, in order to make up the fire, found him writing 
some music, and, looking at him with concern, said, " Sir, I am 
sorry to see you so employed on the Lord's day." At first his 
pride was aroused and his resentment moved, to hear a reproof 
given by a servant. But, upon reflection, he felt the reproof 
was just, put away his music, and from that very hour became 
a strict observer of the Lord's day. How true is that word of 
Solomon, "Reproofs of instruction are the way of life !" (Prov. 
vi. 23.) 

The next step in his spiritual history was his becoming ac- 
quainted with the people called Methodists. The way in which 
this was brought about he afterwards related to John Wesley, 
in the following words : — " When Mr. Hill went to London to 



JOINS THE METHODISTS. 391 

attend Parliament, he took his family and me with him. On 
one occasion, while they stopped at St. Alban's, I walked out 
into the town, and did not return till they were set out for 
London. A horse being left for me, I rode after them and 
overtook them in the evening. Mr. Hill asked me why I stayed 
behind. I said, 'As I was walking I met with a poor old 
woman, who talked so sweetly of Jesus Christ, that I kne*w not 
how the time passed away.' Said Mrs. Hill, ' I shall wonder if 
our tutor does not turn Methodist by-and-by.' ' Methodist, 
madam,' said I ; • pray what is that ? ' She replied, ' Why, the 
Methodists are a people that do nothing but pray ; they are 
praying all day and all night.' 'Are they?' said I; 'then, by 
the help of God, I will find them out, if they be above ground.' 
I did find them out not long after, and was admitted into the 
society." 

The third important step in Fletcher's spiritual history was 
hearing those clergymen who were called Methodists preach 
about faith. Under the influence of newly awakened feelings, 
he had begun to strive diligently to make himself acceptable to 
God by his doings. But hearing a sermon one day preached 
by a clergyman named Green, he became convinced that he did 
not understand the nature of saving faith. This conviction was 
only attained through much humiliation of soul. . " Is it possible," 
he thought, " that I, who have always been accounted so reli- 
gious, who have made divinity my study, and received the pre- 
mium of piety (so-called) from a Swiss university for my writings 
on divine subjects — is it possible that I should yet be so igno- 
rant as not to know what faith is ?" But the more he examined 
himself and considered the subject, the more he was convinced 
of the momentous truth. The more he saw his sinfulness, and 
the entire corruption and depravity of his whole nature, the 
more his hope of being able to reconcile himself to God by his 
own works began to die away. He still sought, by the most 
rigorous austerities, to conquer this evil nature, and to bring 



39 2 INWARD STRUGGLES. 

into his soul a heaven-born peace. But alas ! the more he strove 
the more he saw and felt that all his soul was sinful. In short, like 
Bunyan's Christian, before he saw the way to the wicket-gate, he 
felt his imminent danger, and yet knew not which way to flee. 

How long this inward struggle continued in Fletcher's mind 
is not quite clear. It seems probable that it was at least two 
years before his soul found peace and was set at liberty, and his 
burden rolled away. Evangelists were rare in these days, and 
there were few to help an anxious conscience into the light. 
His diary shows that he went through an immense amount of 
inward conflict. At one time we find him saying, " I almost 
gave up all hope, and resolved to sin on and go to 
hell." At another time he says, "If I go to hell, I 
will serve God even there ; and since I cannot be an in- 
stance of his mercy in heaven, I will be a monument of his 
justice in hell ; and if I show forth his glory one way or the 
other, I am content." At another time he says, " I have re- 
covered my ground. I thought Christ died for all, and there- 
fore he died for me. He died to pluck such sinners as I am 
as brands out of the burning. And as I sincerely desire to be 
his, he will surely take me." At another time he records, " I 
heard a sermon on justification by faith,, but my heart was not 
moved in the least. I was only still more convinced that I was 
an unbeliever, that I am not justified by faith, and that till I 
am, I shall never have peace with God." At another time he 
says, " I have found relief in Mr. Wesley's journal, when I 
heard that we should not build on what we feel, but go to Christ 
with all our sins and all our hardness of heart/' 

Mental struggles like these are no strange things to many 
of God's people. They are deep waters through which 
some of the best and holiest saints have had to pass, in the 
beginning of their journey towards heaven. John Bunyan's 
little book called " Grace Abounding," is a striking account of 
the inward agony which the author of " Pilgrim's Progress " had 



OB TAINS PEA CE. 393 

to endure before he found peace. There are many points of 
resemblance between his experience and that of Fletcher. It is 
a pleasant thought, however, that sooner or later these painful 
struggles end in solid peace. The greater the conflict at first, 
the greater sometimes is the peace at the last. The men that 
God intends to use most as instruments to do his work, are 
often tempered for his service by being frequently put into the 
fire. The truths that we have got hold of by tremendous 
exertion are precisely the truths which we afterwards grasp most 
firmly, and proclaim most positively and powerfully. The man 
who has embraced the doctrine of justification by faith alone, 
through a hand-to-hand fight with Satan, and a contest even 
unto death, is precisely the man to preach the doctrine to his 
fellow-men with unction, with demonstration of the Spirit, and 
with crushing power. This was the experience of that mighty 
evangelist, George Whitefield. This was the experience of 
Fletcher of Madeley. 

Once set free from the burden of sin unforgiven, and feeling 
the blessedness of peace with God, we need not wonder that 
Fletcher longed to tell others of the way to life. Long before 
he was ordained a minister, he began to speak to others about 
their souls, according as he had opportunity. Both in London, 
when he accompanied Mr. Hill, and even during the sitting of 
Parliament^ and in the neighbourhood of Tern Hall, he seized 
every occasion of trying to do spiritual good. And even at this 
early period his labours were not in vain. His biographer says : 
" Though he was at present by no means perfect in the English 
tongue, particularly in the pronunciation of it, yet the earnest- 
ness with which he spoke, then seldom to be found in English 
preaching, and the unspeakably tender affection to poor, un- 
done sinners, which breathed in every word and question, drew 
multitudes of people to hear him, and few went empty away." 
- We can easily understand that Fletcher's views about taking 
orders now went through a complete change. Little by little 



394 HIS ORDINATION. 

his doubts, and fears, and scruples as to his fitness for the 
ministerial office melted away. Correspondence with John 
Wesley encouraged him to go forward with the idea of being 
ordained. Difficulties which seemed likely at one time to put 
an insuperable barrier in his way, were unexpectedly removed. 
A gentleman whom he hardly knew offered him a living which 
was likely to be sopn vacant. A clergyman whom he had never 
even spoken to, of his own accord offered him a title to orders ; 
and at length, iu the year 1757, he was ordained deacon on 
Sunday the 6th of March, and priest on the following Sunday, 
by the Bishop of Bangor, in the Chapel Royal at St. James's. 
How Fletcher got over the difficulty of being a foreigner, and 
of not having taken an University degree, I am unable to ex- 
plain. I can only suppose that the influence of the family of 
the Hills, in which he was still tutor, made a bishop of those 
days ready to ordain him as a " literate person." On what 
title he was ordained, I am also unable to say. But, putting 
things together, I conjecture that he was nominated curate 
of Madeley, the parish of which he afterwards became vicar. 
The whole matter of his ordination seems to have been attended 
with strange irregularities, judged by the standard of the present 
day. But things were strangely managed in the Church of 
England a hundred years ago. 

With characteristic energy, Fletcher lost no time in beginning 
the work of the ministry. The very day that he was ordained 
priest, he came straight from the Chapel Royal to West Street 
Chapel, and assisted John Wesley in the administration of the 
Lord's Supper. Throughout the next two months, until Mr. 
Hill's family left London for Shropshire, he preached in many 
London pulpits both in the English and French language, 
according as he had opportunity. Labouring in this way, he 
soon became well known as a fellow-labourer of the leading evan- 
gelists of the day, and rapidly attained a very high reputation. 

In the month of May 1757 he went down into Shropshire 



RETAINS HIS TUTORSHIP. 395 

with Mr. Hill's family, and found comparatively few openings 
for the exercise of his ministry. In fact, a friend says that he 
did not preach more than six times in six months ; partly, no 
doubt, from his time being occupied with the education of his 
young pupils, and partly, in all probability, because the Shrop- 
shire clergy were afraid of him, and would not admit him into 
their pulpits. The only churches in which he preached were 
Atcham, Wroxeter, Madeley, and St. Alkmunds, and the Abbey 
Church, Shrewsbury. 

Whatever the cause may have been, I cannot discover that 
Fletcher had any regular stated ministerial work for the first 
three years after his ordination. From March 1757 to trie 
latter part of 1760, he seems to have retained his position as 
tutor in Mr. Hill's family, and in that capacity to have gone 
regularly to London for one part of the year, and to have been 
generally in Shropshire for the other. Wherever he was, he 
appears to have found time for itinerating and preaching a good 
deal, and it is only natural to suppose that he was not required 
to devote himself entirely to the superintendence of Mr. Hill's 
sons. 

I must confess my inability to trace out Fletcher's history 
very accurately during the first three years of his ministry. The 
memoirs of men of that day are so often written with a reckless 
neglect of dates, that at this distance of time it is impossible to 
follow their movements. Sometimes I read of his being at 
Bristol, preaching for John Wesley at Kingswood ; sometimes I 
find him in London, preaching in Lady Huntingdon's drawing- 
room ; sometimes he is at Brighton, occupying the pulpit of 
Lady Huntingdon's Chapel; sometimes he is at Tunbridge, 
preaching to French prisoners; sometimes he is itinerating 
about the country, and appearing in all sorts of strange and 
unexpected places. But the order and reasons of his move- 
ments during these three years are matters which I cannot pre- 
tend to explain. One thing only is very clear. He became 



39 6 INTERVIEW WITH BERRIDGE OF EVER TON. 

notorious as a public supporter of the great religious revival of 
which Lady Huntingdon was the mainspring, and formed 
friendships with all its leading agents which lasted till death. 

It was about this period of his life that Fletcher became 
acquainted with the famous Berridge of Everton. This took 
place under such singular circumstances that I shall give them 
at length in the words of Lady Huntingdon's biographer. It 
appears that he went to Everton vicarage uninvited and unex- 
pectedly, and " introduced himself as a raw convert who had 
taken the liberty to wait on Berridge for the benefit of his in- 
struction and advice. From his accent and manner the shrewd 
vicar of Everton perceived at once that he was a foreigner, and 
inquired from what country he came. ' I am a Swiss, from the 
canton of Berne,' was the reply. ' From Berne!' said Berridge ; 
' then probably you can give me some account of a young fel- 
low-countryman of yours, one John Fletcher, who has lately 
preached a few times for Mr. Wesley, and of whose talents, 
learning, and piety, he speaks in high terms. Do you know 
him % ' * Yes, sir,' said Fletcher ; ' I know him intimately ; and 
did the Messrs. Wesley know him as well as I do, they would 
not speak of him in such terms, for which he is more obliged 
to their partial friendship than to his own merits.' ' You sur- 
prise me,' said Berridge, ' by speaking so coldly of a country- 
man in whose praise they are so warm.' ' I have the best 
reason,' he rejoined, ' for speaking as I do, for I am myself 
John Fletcher.' ' If you are John Fletcher,' said his host, 
{ you must do me the favour to take my pulpit to-morrow, and 
when we are better acquainted, without implicitly receiving 
either your statement or that of your friends, I shall be able to 
judge for myself.' Thus commenced an intimacy between 
Fletcher and Berridge, which no subsequent controversy could 
ever entirely interrupt." 

The turning-point in Fletcher's ministerial history was his 
appointment to the vicarage of Madeley, in October 1760. 



VICAR OF MADE LEY. 397 

Madeley is a large and unattractive parish near Wellington, in 
Shropshire, containing at this time between eight and nine 
thousand inhabitants, employed almost entirely in collieries and 
ironworks. There is no reason to suppose that it was very dif- 
ferent a hundred years ago from what it is now, though the 
population has probably increased. The circumstances under 
which he obtained the living were very remarkable, and are well 
described in his own letters. 

The first link in the chain of providence which took him to 
Madeley, was the offer of the living of Dunham in Cheshire by 
his friend Mr. Hill. He told Fletcher that the parish was 
small, the duty light, and the income good — ^"400 a-year — 
and that it was situated in a fine sporting country. After thank- 
ing Mr. Hill most cordially for his kindness, Fletcher replied, 
" Alas, sir ! Dunham will not suit me. There is too much 
money, and too little work." " Few clergymen make such 
objections," said Mr. Hill ; "it is a pity to resign such a living, 
as I do not know that I can find you another. What shall we 
do % Would you like Madeley % " " That, sir, would be the very 
place for me." " My object, Mr. Fletcher, is to make you 
comfortable in your own way. If you prefer Madeley, I shall 
find no difficulty in persuading Chambers, the present vicar, to 
exchange it for Dunham, which is worth twice as much, and in 
getting Madeley for you." In this way, curious as it now 
appears, John Fletcher, in the month of October 1760, found 
himself in the strange position of an English incumbent, and 
vicar of a large parish in Shropshire. 

He did not go to Madeley without many doubts and mis- 
givings. Not a few of his best friends thought it a move of 
very questionable wisdom. Even now, one cannot help fancy- 
ing that his valuable life would have been longer, and his extra- 
parochial usefulness greatly increased, if he had been content 
with the lighter work and smaller population of Dunham. But 
we must not forget that the " steps of a good man are ordered 



39 8 CORRESPONDENCE WITH CHARLES WESLEY 

by the Lord." It is place that often draws out grace. For 
anything we know, Fletcher might have sunk into comparative 
indolence and obscurity, if he had not been planted at Madeley. 
His letters, however, at this period, show plainly that the move 
was not made without great anxiety and exercise of soul. 

To Charles Wesley he writes : " My heart revolts at the idea 
of being at Madeley alone — opposed by my superiors, hated by 
my neighbours, and despised by all the world ; without piety, 
without talents, without resolution, how shall I repel the assaults 
and surmount the obstacles which I foresee if I discharge my 
duty at Madeley with fidelity 1 ? On the other hand, to reject 
this presentation, burn the certificate, and leave in the desert 
these sheep whom the Lord has evidently brought me into the 
world to feed, appears to me nothing but obstinacy and refined 
self-love. I will hold a middle course between these extremes. 
I will be wholly passive in the steps I must take, and yet active 
in praying the Lord to deliver me from the evil one, and to 
conduct me in the way that he would have me go. If you can 
see anything better, inform me of it speedily ; and at the same 
time remember me in all your prayers, that if this matter be not 
of the Lord, the enmity of the Bishop of Lichfield — who must 
countersign my testimonials, the threats of the Bishop of Here- 
ford's chaplain who was a witness to my preaching at West 
Street Chapel, the objections drawn from my not being natural- 
ized, or some other obstacle, may prevent the kind intention of 
Mr. Hill." 

It is written that " when a man's ways please the Lord, he 
maketh his enemies to be at peace with him." This text was 
eminently illustrated in the matter of Fletcher's appointment to 
Madeley. Obstacles which at one time seemed insuperable, 
melted away in a most extraordinary manner, and, almost in 
spite of himself, he was instituted into possession of the living. 
In a letter to Lady Huntingdon, on the 3rd of October, he says, 
" I seem to be the prisoner of God's providence, who is going, 



AND LADY HUNTINGDON. 399 

in all probability, to cast my lot for life among the colliers and 
forgemen of Macleley. The two thousand souls of that parish, 
for whom I was called into the ministry, are many sheep in the 
wilderness, which, after all, I cannot sacrifice to my own private 
choice. When I was once suffered to attend them for a few 
days, some began to return to the Shepherd of their souls, and 
I found it in my heart to spend and be spent for them. When 
I was afterwards sent away from them, that zeal, it is true, 
cooled to such a degree that I have wished a thousand times 
they might never be committed to my charge. But the impres- 
sion of the tears of those who, when I left them, ran after me 
crying, ' Who shall now show us the way to heaven V never 
quite wore off from the bottom of my heart ; and, upon second 
thoughts, I always concluded that if the Lord made my way 
plain to this church, I could not run away from it without dis- 
obeying the order of providence. That time is come, the 
church is vacated, the presentation to it brought unasked into 
my hands ; the difficulty of getting proper testimonials, which I 
looked upon as insurmountable, vanishes at once; the three 
clergymen who had opposed me with most bitterness signed 
them; — the Bishop of Lichfield countersigns them without the 
least objection; the lord of the manor, my great opponent, 
leaves the parish; and the very man, the vicar, who told me I 
should never preach in that church, now recommends me to it, 
and tells me he will induct me himself. Are not these intima- 
tions of the will of God P 

On the 28th of October 1760, he writes to Lady Huntingdon 
as follows : — " Since I had the honour to write last, all the little 
circumstances of my institution and induction have taken such 
an easy turn that I question whether any clergyman noted for 
good fellowship ever got over them with less trouble. I preached 
last Sunday, for the first time, in my church, and shall con- 
tinue to do so, though I propose staying with Mr. Hill till he 
leaves the country, partly to comply with him to the last, and 



400 FLETCHER'S CORRESPONDENCE. 

partly to avoid falling out with my predecessor, who is still at 
Madeley, but who will remove about the same time. If I know 
anything of myself, I shall be much more ready to resign my 
benefice, when I have had a fair trial of my unprofitableness to 
the people committed to my care, than I was to accept it. 
Mr. John Wesley bids me do it without a trial. He will have 
me see in this appointment to Madeley ' the snare of the devil, 
and fly from it at the peril of my soul.' I answer, I cannot see 
it in that light. He says, ' Others may do well in a living ; you 
cannot, for it is not your calling.' I tell him I readily own I 
am not fit either to plant or water any part of the Lord's vine- 
yard, but that if I am called at all, I am called to preach at 
Madeley, where I was first sent into the ministry, and where a 
chain of providences I could not break has again fastened me. 
I tell him, that though I should be as unsuccessful as Noah 
before the flood, yet I am determined to try to be to them a 
preacher of Christ's righteousness; and that, notwithstanding 
my universal inability, I am not quite without hope that he who 
reproved a prophet's madness by the mouth of an ass, may re- 
prove a collier's profaneness even by my mouth." 

The doubts and misgivings with which Fletcher accepted the 
living of Madeley, appear to have clung to him for several 
months after he entered on the duties of his parish. Great 
allowance must, of course, be made for the natural ignorance 
of a young Swiss about the habits and customs of a neglected 
mining population in England. But, judging from the three 
following letters, he seems for some time to have gone through 
great exercise of mind after commencing his residence at 
Madeley. I make no excuse for inserting these letters at 
length. 

On the 19th of November 1760, he writes to Lady Hunting- 
don as follows : — " I have hitherto written my sermons, but I 
am carried so far beyond my notes when in the pulpit, that I 
propose preaching with only my sermon-cover in my hand next 



. LETTER TO LADY HUNTINGDON. 4°i 

Friday, when I shall venture on an evening lecture for the 
first time. I question whether I shall have half-a-dozen hearers, 
as the god of a busy world is doubly the god of this part 
of the world ; but I am resolved to try. The weather and 
the roads are so bad, that the way to church is almost impracti- 
cable; nevertheless, all the seats were full last Sunday. Some 
begin to come from the adjacent parishes, and some more, as 
they say, threaten to come when the season permits. I can- 
not yet discern any deep work, or, indeed, anything but what 
will always attend the crying down man's righteousness and 
exalting Christ's — I mean a general liking among the poor, 
and offence and ridicule and opposition among the respectable 
and rich people. Should the Lord vouchsafe to plant the 
gospel in this country, my parish seems to be the best centre 
of a work, as it lies just among the most populous, profane, 
and ignorant parts. But it is well if, after all, there is any 
work in my parish. I despair of this when I look at myself, 
and fall in with Mr. John Wesley's opinion about me. Yet 
sometimes, too, I hope the Lord has not sent me here for 
nothing; and I beg for strength to stand still and see the 
salvation of the Lord. Nevertheless, I am still fully deter- 
mined to resign my living after a while, if the Lord does not 
think me worthy to be his instrument. If your Ladyship could 
at any time spare me a minute, I -should be glad to know 
whether you do not think I should then be at full liberty to 
do it before God. I abhor the title of a living for a living's 
sake. It is death to me. 

" There are three meetings in my parish — a Papist, Quaker, 
and Baptist ; and they begin to call the fourth the Methodist 
one — I mean the church. But the bulk of the inhabitants 
are stupid heathens, who seem past all curiosity, as well as 
all sense of godliness. I am ready to run after them into 
their pits and forges, and I only wait for God's providence to 
show me the way. I am often reduced to great perplexity, 

(195) 26 



402 FLETCHER'S CORRESPONDENCE. ■ 

but the end of it is sweet. I am driven to the Lord, and he 
comforts, encourages, and teaches me. I sometimes feel that 
zeal which forced Paul to wish to be accursed for his brethren's 
sakes, but I want to feel it without interruption. The devil, 
my friends, and my heart, have pushed hard at me to make 
me fall into worldly cares, and creature snares — first by the 
thought of marrying, then by the offer of several boarders, one 
of whom offered me sixty pounds a-year; but I have been 
enabled to cry, 'Nothing but Jesus, and the service of his 
people;' and I trust the Lord will keep me in the same mind." 

On the 6th of January 1761, he writes to Lady Huntingdon 
again, even in a lower key and a more depressed frame of 
mind. He says: — "I had a secret expectation to be the instru- 
ment of a work in this part of our Church, and I did not 
despair of soon becoming a little Berridge ! Thus warmed 
with sparks of my own kindling, I looked out to see the 
rocks broken in pieces and the water flowing out; but, to the 
great disappointment of my hopes, I am now forced to look 
within, and to see the need I have of being broken, and of 
repenting myself. If my being stationed in this howling wil- 
derness is to answer no public end as to the gospel of Christ, 
I will not give up the hope that it may answer a private end as 
to myself, in humbling me under a sense of universal unprofit- 
ableness. If I preach the gospel ten years here, and see no 
fruit of my labours, in either case I promise to bless God, if I 
can only say from my heart, ' I am nothing, I have nothing, I 
can do nothing.' 

" As to my parish, all that I see hitherto in it is nothing but 
what one may expect from speaking plainly, and with some 
degree of earnestness. Many cry out, ' He is a Methodist, a 
downright Methodist;' while some of the poorer sort say, 'Nay, 
but he speaketh the truth.' Some of the best farmers and most 
respectable tradesmen talk often among themselves, I hear, 
about turning me out of my living as a Methodist or a Baptist, 



LETTER TO LADY HUNTINGDON. 4°3 

and spread about such stories as your Ladyship may guess at 
without my writing them. My Friday lecture took better than 
I expected, and Y propose to continue it till the congregation 
desert me. The number of hearers then is larger than that 
which my predecessor had on Sunday. The number of com- 
municants is increased from thirty to above a hundred, and a 
few seem to seek grace in the means. May they do it in 
sincerity ! " 

The last letterwhich I shall quote in this memoir was addressed 
to Lady Huntingdon on the 27th of April 1761. He says: — 
"I learn by slow experience, that in me dwelleth no good 
thing. This I find cannot be learned of man, nor by man. It 
is a lesson that grace alone teaches effectually in the furnace of 
affliction. I am still at the first line; but I think I read it and 
understand it in a manner quite different from what I did before. 
Surely the Saviour speaks as no man ever spake ; and he teaches 
with authority, not as the scribes. His words are recorded in 
the heart, while those of men only graze the surface of the 
understanding. I have met with several trials since Providence 
cast me, I shall not say into this part of the Lord's vineyard, 
but into this part of our spiritual Sodom. Nevertheless, they 
did not work upon me as they ought to have done. I stood 
out against them in a kind of self-resolution, supported by 
human fortitude rather than divine humility; and so they did 
not bring down the pride of nature, but rather increased it. 
The old man, if he cannot have his own food, will live quietly 
and comfortably on spiritual food ; yea, he is often pampered 
by what the natural mind supposes will poison him. 

" Of late I have met with a trial that, by God's infinite 
mercy, has found its way to my heart. Oh, may the wound be 
deep enough to let in the mind of Jesus ! A young woman, 
daughter of one of my most substantial parishioners, giving 
place to Satan by pride and impatience, is driven in her con- 
victions into a kind of madness. I could not bear patiently 



404 FLETCHER'S CORRESPONDENCE. 

enough, before this, the reports that went about that I drove 
people mad; but the fear of having this laid to my charge, 
backed with so glaring an instance, has thrown me into some 
agonies of soul. 

" Why God permits these offences to arise, has not a little 
staggered me. Once I was for taking to my heels, and hire- 
ling-like, flying at the first approach of the wolf. But, thanks 
to divine grace, I now try to commit to the Lord the keeping 
of his own work, and pray for a blind faith in him who calls 
light out of darkness. Had not this trial staggered me, I 
should have great hopes that a few living stones may be 
gathered here for the temple of the Lord. There is a consider 
able stir about religion in the neighbourhood ; and though 
most people rise up against it, yet some begin to inquire in 
earnest what they must do to be saved ; and some get a sight 
of the way. My church is full, notwithstanding the oaths that 
some of my parishioners have sworn never to hear me preach 
again. I am insensibly led into exhorting sometimes in my 
house and elsewhere. I preach on Sunday morning and Fri- 
day evening; and on Sunday evening, after catechising or 
preaching to the children, I read one of the Homilies, or a 
sermon of Archbishop Usher, insisting on all that confirms 
what I advanced in the morning, which greatly stops the mouth 
of the gainsayers, till God shall turn their hearts." 

Such were the beginnings of Fletcher's ministry of Madeley. 
His subsequent history would occupy far more room than can 
be assigned to it in this chapter. How he persevered in his 
evangelistic work at Madeley for twenty-five years — how he 
became the principal of Lady Huntingdon's College at Tre- 
vecca — how his health broke down under the abundance of his 
labours — how he lived on through evil report and good report — 
how he married — how he died — how he preached and how he 
wrote, — all these are matters which I think it best to reserve 
for another distinct chapter. 



DUTIES OF A PARISH CIERGYMAN. 405 



CHAPTER II. 

Ministerial Labours at Madeley — Superintendent of Trevecca College, 1768 — Resigns Tre- 
vecca, 1771 — Laid aside by ill health, 1776 — Goes to Clifton, Newington, and Switzer- 
land — Returns to Madeley, 1781 — Marries— Dies, 1785 — His Preaching — Writing — 
Private Character — Testimony of Wesley and Venn. 

The position of a parish clergyman in the Church of England 
who does his duty, is one of peculiar difficulties and discourage- 
ments. He has not to deal with a voluntary congregation, 
whose members have no connection with him beyond that of 
free choice and inclination. He has the nominal charge of all 
who reside within certain territorial boundaries, and, whether 
they like him or not, in the eye of the law he is bound to do 
what he can for their souls. 

The larger the population of an English parish, the greater 
are the English clergyman's difficulties. Many a clergyman 
finds himself placed in the midst of dense masses of people 
whose spiritual necessities he is utterly unable to overtake. He 
sees around him hundreds of immortal souls continually pass- 
ing out of time into eternity — ignorant, immoral, without God, 
without Christ, and without hope — and yet has neither time 
nor strength to get at half of them ! A position like this is 
dreadfully trying and crushing to the spirit of a conscientious 
man. Yet this is the position in which Fletcher found him- 
self at Madeley. Who can wonder that at first he felt sorely 
cast down, and half inclined to think, with Wesley, that he had 
mistaken his calling % 

These first feelings of discouragement, however, gradually 
passed away. Little by little he became fitted to his post, and 
saw clearly that he was where God would have him be. Once 
settled down in his work at Madeley, he never gave it up, and 
for twenty-five years did the work of an evangelist among 
his semi-heathen parishioners in a way that few have ever 
equalled, and none probably have surpassed. No other cure 



406 HIS MINISTERIAL LABOURS. 

ever tempted him away. Where he began his ministry, there 
he ended it. Madeley was his first charge, and Madeley was 
his last. 

The machinery which Fletcher used in doing his work at 
Madeley was very simple and apostolic. He was instant in 
season and out of season, always "preaching the Word." 
Publicly in church, privately from house to house, by the road- 
side, in the fields, at the coal-pit mouth, he was continually 
lifting up his voice, and " teaching and preaching Jesus Christ." 
He counted the day lost in which he was not actually employed 
in doing his Master's business. A warfare of holy aggression 
on sin and Satan's kingdom was constantly kept up throughout 
the district, and no one was let alone. So great indeed was his 
zeal, that people who were determined to have their sins agreed 
to lock their doors, and refuse him admission. Like Ahab, 
they hated him because he did not speak good of their condi- 
tion, but evil. Even John Wesley, who thought him wrong in 
going to Madeley, bore this testimony to his work : " From the 
beginning of his settling there, he was a laborious workman in 
the Lord's vineyard, endeavouring to spread the truth of the 
gospel and to suppress vice in every possible way. Those sin- 
ners who tried to hide themselves from him he pursued to 
every corner of his parish, by all sorts of means, public and 
private, early and late, in season and out of season, entreating 
and warning them to flee from the wrath to come. Some made 
it an excuse for not attending the church service on a Sunday 
morning, that they could not awake early enough to get their 
families ready. He provided for this also. Taking a bell in 
his hand, he set out every Sunday for some months at five in 
the morning, and went round the most distant parts of the 
parish inviting all the inhabitants to the house of God." 

He found abundance of organized wickedness in his neglected, 
overgrown parish. It was a common thing for young men and 
women to meet in large bodies on stated evenings for what 



HIS CARE OF THE SICK. 407 

they called " recreation." This recreation usually consisted in 
dancing, drinking, revelling, and immorality, and continued 
all night. Against these licentious assemblies Fletcher reso- 
lutely set his face, and used every exertion to put them down. 
He would often burst suddenly into the room where the dis- 
orderly company were assembled, rebuke the thoughtless revel- 
lers with a holy indignation, and beard Satan in his high places. 
Nor was his labour altogether in vain in this unpromising field. 
After standing the first outbursts of rudeness and brutality, he 
generally found his exhortations received with silent submission; 
and in some cases he had the comfort of seeing a reformation 
in the behaviour of the revellers. 

Cases of sickness in a mining district like Madeley were 
necessarily very frequent, and coal-pit accidents, we need not 
doubt, were very many and often fatal. In attending such cases 
Fletcher was peculiarly zealous and indefatigable. " It was a 
work," says Wesley, " for which he was always ready. If he 
heard a knock at his door in the coldest winter night, his win- 
dow was thrown open in a moment. And when he understood 
that some one was hurt in a pit, or that a neighbour was likely 
to die, no consideration was ever had of the darkness of the 
night or the severity of the weather. One answer was always 
given: ' I will attend you immediately.' " 

" In all labour there is profit." It will not surprise any Chris- 
tian to hear that Fletcher's labours at Madeley produced an 
immense effect on many souls. At first, indeed, he seemed to 
labour in vain, and to spend his strength for nothing. People 
were not converted in masses, and all at once. But gradually 
a large number of hearers were led by the Spirit to Christ, and 
became witnesses for God in the midst of the sin and darkness 
around them. With success, no doubt, came opposition and 
persecution of no common kind. This, however, will not sur- 
prise any Bible-reading Christian. Satan will never allow his 
kingdom to be pulled down without a mighty struggle, and 



4°8 A PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE. 

never is his wrath so great as when he sees he has but " a short 
time." Let a great and effectual door be opened to the gos- 
pel, and there will never fail to be " many adversaries." It is 
an invariable mark of a real work of God, that it is carried on 
" through much persecution." 

One Sunday, for instance, after doing his usual duty at 
Madeley, Fletcher was on the point of going to a place called 
Madeley Wood, to preach and catechise. But, just as he was 
setting out, he received a sudden notice that a child was to be 
buried, and had to wait for the funeral. This waiting till the 
child was brought prevented his going to the Wood till some 
time after the appointed hour. Herein the providence of God 
appeared in a very remarkable manner. At the hour origin- 
ally appointed for his preaching, some colliers, who neither 
feared God nor man, were baiting a bull just by the place where 
he was expected. Having had plenty to drink, they had all 
agreed, as soon as he came, to "bait the parson." Part of 
them were then appointed to pull him off his horse, and the 
rest to set the dogs upon him. But in the meantime the bull 
broke loose, and threw down the booth in which the ring- 
leaders were drinking, and the people were dispersed. The 
result was that the godly people who had come together to 
hear him preach were enabled to hold their meeting in quiet- 
ness and safety. 

To enter into all the details of Fletcher's history during the 
twenty-five years of his ministry at Madeley, would be clearly 
impossible in the narrow limits of a brief and condensed memoir. 
In fact, to attempt it would be only telling the same story over 
and over again. Throughout this whole period, with little in- 
termission, he was always doing one and the same thing — 
always preaching, always teaching, always trying to awaken 
sinners, always trying to build up saints ; but always one and 
the same man, giving himself up wholly to his Master's busi- 
ness. Sometimes he found time to take a few Sundays at Lady 



SUPERINTENDENT OF TREVECCA COLLEGE. 4°9 

Huntingdon's chapel at Bath. Sometimes he exchanged duties 
for a little season with friends, such as Mr. Sellon, at Bredon, 
in Leicestershire. Sometimes he wrote long controversial 
treatises, in defence of what he believed was Christ's truth, 
against what he called Calvinism and Antinomianism. Some- 
times he was entirely laid aside from work by ill health. But 
wherever he was, and in whatever condition, John Fletcher 
was unmistakably the " man of God," always the minister of 
Christ, always delighting in work, always insatiably desirous to 
do good to souls. I find no man of the last century, whatever 
his defects may have been in doctrine, to whom the scrip- 
tural motto might be so justly applied, " One thing I do." 

About the year 1768 Fletcher was invited by Lady Hunting- 
don to become superintendent of her Training College for 
young ministers at Trevecca, in Wales. He accepted this 
important post with the distinct understanding that he was not 
to be generally resident there. He felt strongly that his duty 
to his flock at Madeley would not admit of this. But it was 
settled that he should attend as often as he could, should give 
advice about the appointment of masters and the admission or 
exclusion of students, should oversee their studies and conduct, 
and should judge of their fitness for the work of the ministry. 

Whether a native of Switzerland, who had never seen Eng- 
land or spoken the English language till he was twenty-one, 
was exactly the man to be head of a training college, may 
admit of some doubt. In all probability, however, Fletcher 
was the best man among the evangelists of the day whom Lady 
Huntingdon could find. His reputation as tutor to Mr. Hill's 
son was probably a strong recommendation. His learning and 
scholarship were undeniable. His character as a holy, decided 
man stood very high. In short, if he- were not the fittest person 
in the world to be principal of a college, it would not be very 
easy to say who, in that day, was more fit. 

Fletcher, at any rate, appears to have done what he could to 



4io HIS COURSE OF STUDY. 

give the new Institution success. A letter to Lady Huntingdon, 
dated January 1768, gives a very favourable idea of his sound 
judgment. He evidently sees the materials he had to work 
upon, and wisely resolves not to pitch the standard of attain- 
ments required too high. He proposes to instruct all the 
students in grammar, logic, rhetoric, ecclesiastical history, geo- 
graphy, a little natural philosophy, and a great deal of practical 
divinity. The books he specially wishes to have in the library 
are, — Henry's and Gill's Commentaries on the Bible, Baxter's 
Works, Keach on Metaphors, Taylor on Types, Gurnall's 
Christian Armoury, Edwards on Preaching, Wesley's Christian 
Library, Usher's Body of Divinity, Scapula's Greek Lexicon, 
Lyttleton's Latin Dictionary, and Johnson's English Dictionary. 
Short and scanty as this list may appear for the beginning of a 
college library, it cannot be denied that it was well selected, 
considering the times. The mention of Gill's Commentary is 
also an interesting fact. It is enough to show that Fletcher's 
Arminianism did not prevent him valuing the works of a tho- 
roughly Calvinistic writer. 

The best account of Fletcher's proceedings as Principal of 
Trevecca is to be found in the writings of one of the under- 
masters ; and it is so interesting, that I shall make no apology 
for giving it entire. He says : — " I went to reside at Trevecca 
in 1770. The young men whom I found there were serious, 
and made considerable progress in learning, and many of them 
seemed to have talents for the ministry. Mr. Fletcher visited 
us frequently, and was received as an angel of God. It is not 
possible for me to describe the veneration in which we all held 
him. Like Elijah in the school of the prophets, he was revered, 
he was loved, he was almost adored ; and that not only by 
every student, but by every member of the family. And indeed 
he was worthy. Prayer, praise, love, and zeal, all-ardent, ele- 
vated above what we would think attainable in this state of 
frailty, was the element in which he continually lived. And as 



HIS EARNESTNESS AND PR A YERFULNESS. 41 1 

to others, his one employment was to call, entreat, and urge 
them to ascend with him to the glorious source of being and 
blessedness. He had leisure, comparatively, for nothing else. 
Languages, art, sciences, grammar, electricity, logic, even 
divinity itself, so-called, were all laid aside when he appeared 
in the school-room among the students. His full heart would 
not suffer him to be silent ; he must speak. The students were 
readier to hearken to this servant and minister of Christ than 
to attend to Sallust, Virgil, Cicero, or any Latin or Greek his- 
torian, poet, or philosopher they had been engaged in reading. 
And they seldom hearkened long before they were all in tears, 
and every heart caught fire from the flame which burned in his 
soul. Such seasons generally terminated in this. Being con- 
vinced that to be filled with the Holy Ghost was a better quali- 
fication for the ministry of the gospel than any classical learning, 
after speaking awhile in the school-room he used often to say, 
' As many of you as are athirst for the fulness of the Spirit, 
follow me into my room.' On this many of us have instantly 
followed him, and there continued for two or three hours, 
wrestling, like Jacob, for the blessing ; and praying one after 
another, till we could not bear to kneel any longer." I make 
no comment on this curious account. I dare not say that I 
think it would be well to be incessantly converting college- 
lectures into prayer-meetings. But I will not shrink from say- 
ing, that a few more head-masters of schools and principals of 
colleges as spiritual-minded and prayerful as the Vicar of 
Madeley, would be an immense blessing to the Church of 
Christ. Head-masters and principals too often go into the 
very opposite extreme from that into which Fletcher went. 
Too often they are cold, dry, hard, and unsympathizing, and 
seem to forget entirely that young men have hearts, and con- 
sciences, and souls. 

Fletcher's connection with Trevecca College only lasted three 
years. It came to an end in 1771, in consequence of his steady 



412 RESIGNS TREVECCA. 

adherence to Arminian .principles, and his firm determination 
to stand by John Wesley in matters of doctrine. He parted 
from the Institution on good terms with Lady Huntingdon, and 
without any bitterness or asperity on either side. Whether, in 
point of fact, there was so very much difference in doctrinal 
views between him and Lady Huntingdon's party, as he sup- 
posed, is a matter on which I feel considerable doubt. At any 
rate, I suspect it was greatly exaggerated. There is no getting 
over the remarkable fact that for three years he took a leading 
part in the great anniversary gatherings at the college, and 
preached side by side with men like Whitefield, Rowlands, 
Berridge, and Venn. That simple fact speaks volumes. In 
days of controversy, bystanders are fond of exaggerating differ- 
ences, and blowing up the fire of division. When men can 
preach and pray together with freedom, we may rest assured 
that in heart they do not greatly differ. Let us try to believe 
that all was ordered for good. It is pretty certain that Fletcher 
could not long have retained his double position as Principal 
of Trevecca and Vicar of Madeley. The double responsibility 
would have killed him. It is far from improbable that he saw 
this himself, and Was not sorry to have a door opened for 
retiring. 

About the year 1776, Fletcher's health failed so much that 
he was completely laid aside from public work, and obliged to 
leave Madeley entirely for the long space of five years. He 
had never been very strong at any time, and for some years 
before 1776 he had many premonitory symptoms of consump- 
tion. Like many unmarried ministers, he had lived alone and 
taken no care of himself, and at the age of forty-seven he seemed 
to be breaking down entirely under the abundance of his 
labours. . He felt himself that he had often been imprudent, 
and taxed his constitution too much. But it is just one of 
those lessons which ministers generally find out too late, when 
the mischief is done. Over-laziness is so much more a besetting 



LAID ASIDE BY ILL HEALTH. 4*3 

sin than over-zeal, that a conscientious man may well be ex- 
cused if he turns a deaf ear to the suggestion, " Spare thyself," 
and suspects it to be a temptation of the devil. Such, I have 
little doubt, was the case with Fletcher. 

The first two years of Fletcher's forced retirement from work 
was spent in England, — partly at Brislington, near Bristol ; 
partly at Newington, near London ; and partly at other places, 
— but always at the house of loving friends. His one employ- 
ment was that most wearing and depressing one, the search for 
health ; and many, strange, and various wejre the remedies he 
seems to have tried in order to obtain it. At no time of his 
life, perhaps, did his graces shine more than they did at this. 
He gave full proof that he could bear God's will as well as do 
it, suffer patiently as well as work actively, sit still and do 
nothing as well as run about and do a great deal. Let me here 
express my own firm conviction, that this is the highest point 
of excellence in a Christian. Self-conceit, and the love of 
the praise of men, will often help us to preach, and speak, and 
write, and make a great noise in the world. Nothing but great 
grace will enable us to be content to do nothing, and to sit still 
and wait. No wonder that one who came to visit him at New- 
ington, when he was thought to be dying, said afterwards, " I 
went to see a man that had one foot in the grave, but I found 
a man that had one foot in heaven." 

The last three years of Fletcher's period of ill health were 
spent on the Continent, — partly in the south of France, and 
partly in Switzerland. This Continental tour was a wisely- 
devised plan, and answered perfectly. The return to his native 
air, the entire change of scene and occupation, the freedom 
from a thousand causes of care and anxiety in England, the 
society of his valued and kind travelling companion, Mr. Ire- 
land of Brislington, — all these things acted with mighty power 
on Fletcher's shattered constitution. Little by little he began 
to rally. Little by little he. lost the many unfavourable symp- 



41 4 HIS MARRIAGE. 

toms with which he had left England. At last, to his own great 
delight, he was able to preach without difficulty ; and at length, 
in the month of June 1781, like one miraculously raised from 
the dead, he found himself once more in his vicarage al 
Madeley. 

In the latter end of 1781, the same year that he returned to 
Madeley, Fletcher was married. He was now in the decline of 
life, a man of broken health, in the fifty-second year of his age, 
and the step probably took his friends by surprise. But it seems 
to have been a wise and well-ordered "step, and one that added 
much to the comfort of his latter days. The lady of his choice, 
a Miss Bosanquet, was one whom he had known well as a 
decided Christian for at least twenty years, and she appears in 
every respect, both in age and character, to have been eminently 
calculated to be a help-meet for him. The account of the 
wedding, which is given at great length by Fletcher's biographer, 
Mr. Benson, is very curious indeed, and deserves an attentive 
perusal. Seldom, perhaps, was a marriage ever celebrated in 
a fashion so utterly unlike the fashion of this world. But 
Fletcher was no common man, and his wedding was no com- 
mon wedding. 

The Vicar of Madeley's letter to a friend, written shortly 
after his marriage, is interesting ; and the more so as it throws 
some light on his motives for changing his state. He says : 
" I am married in my old age, and have a new opportunity of 
considering a great mystery, in the most perfect type of our 
Lord's mystical union with his Church. I have now a new call 
to pray for a fulness of Christ's holy, gentle, meek, loving spirit, 
that I may love my wife as he loved his spouse the Church. 
But the emblem is greatly deficient. The Lamb is worthy of 
his spouse, and more than worthy : whereas I must acknow- 
ledge myself unworthy of the yoke-fellow whom Heaven has 
reserved for me. She is a person after my own heart ; and I 
make no doubt we shall increase the number of the happy 



LETTERS ON THE SUBJECT. 4 S 5 

marriages in the Church militant. Indeed, they are not so 
many but it may be worth a Christian's while to add one more 
to the number. God declared that it was ' not good for man,' 
a social being, ' to live alone ; ' and therefore he gave him a 
help-meet for him. For the same reason our Lord sent forth 
his disciples two and two. Had I searched the three king- 
doms, I could not have found one brother willing to share, 
gratis, my weal, woe, and labour, and complaisant enough to 
unite his fortune to mine. But God has found me a partner, 
' a sister, a wife,' to use St. Paul's language, who is not afraid to 
face with me the colliers and bargemen of my parish, until 
death part us. Buried together in our country village, we shall 
help one another to trim our lamps, and to wait, as I trust you 
do continually, for the coming of the heavenly Bridegroom." 

In another letter, written in the beginning of 1782, he says : 
" Strangely restored to health and strength, considering my 
years, by the good nursing of my dear partner, I ventured to 
preach of late as often as I did formerly : and, after having read 
prayers, I preached twice on Christmas-day. I did last Sunday 
what I had never done : I continued doing duty from ten till 
past four in the afternoon, owing to christenings, churchings, 
and the sacrament, which I administered to a churchful of 
people ; so that I was obliged to go from the communion-table 
to begin the evening service, and then to visit some sick. This 
has brought back upon me one of my old dangerous symptoms, 
so that I had flattered myself in vain to do the whole duty of 
my parish. But my dear wife nurses me with the tenderest 
care, gives me up to God with the greatest resignation, and 
helps me to rejoice that life and death, health and sickness, 
work all for our good, and are all sure, as blessed instruments, 
to forward us in our journey to heaven." 

Fletcher's most useful ministry did not last long after his 
return to Madeley. He died on Saturday the 14th of August 
1785, after a short illness of only ten days' duration — appa- 



4 1 6 A TTA CKED BY FE VER. 

rently a typhus fever — in the fifty-sixth year of his age. His 
constitution was probably broken down by his long-continued 
labours in Christ's cause, and a constant tendency to consump- 
tion ; and when the last enemy came, he had no strength or 
stamina to enable him to resist disease. Even to the last he 
was the same man that he had been for twenty-five years, and 
his obstinate determination to work on to the uttermost in all 
probability made his attack of fever terminate fatally. Though 
taken ill on Thursday the 4th of August, he persisted in taking 
the full morning duty on the following Sunday in his church. 
He read prayers, preached, and administered the Lord's Supper, 
though he nearly fainted several times in the service. From 
the church he was supported into his bedroom, where he lay 
for some time in a swoon, and from that time he never left his 
house alive. Never, perhaps, was there a more striking instance 
of the " ruling passion being strong in death." Like White- 
field, he almost died in harness. , 

All through the early part of the week he lay very ill, able to 
speak little, but full of joy and peace, and delighting greatly in 
hearing his wife read hymns and treatises on faith and love. 
On Thursday and Friday he spoke very little, but seemed to 
take peculiar pleasure in the text, " God is love," and in the 
verse of a hymn containing these words, — 

" The blood of Christ through earth and skies, 
Mercy — free, boundless mercy cries ; 
Mercy's full power I soon shall prove — 
Loved with an everlasting love." 

On Saturday afternoon the fever seemed to leave him for a 
little time, and he became so much more like himself that a 
friend said, " Do you think the Lord will raise you up % " He 
strove to answer, but could only just pronounce the words, 
" Raise me up in the resurrection." To another who asked the 
same question, he said, " I leave it all to God." 

On Saturday evening the fever returned again, and with 



HIS DEATH. 4*7 

greater violence than ever. It became evident that he was 
dying very fast. His wife then said, " My dear creature, I ask 
not for myself — I know thy soul — but I ask for the sake of 
others : — If Jesus be very present with thee, lift up thy right 
hand." Immediately he did so. " If the prospect of glory 
sweetly open before thee, repeat the sign." He instantly raised 
his hand again, and in half a minute raised it a second time. 
He then threw it up, as if he would reach the top of the bed. 
After this he moved and spoke no more, excepting when Mrs. 
Fletcher said, " Art thou in pain 1 " when he answered, " No." 
From that time he lay in a kind of sleep, though with his eyes 
open and fixed, sitting upright in his bed, with his head leaning 
on pillows. Eighteen hours he continued in this position, 
breathing quietly like a person in common sleep, and with a 
countenance so calm and composed that not a trace of death 
could be seen on it During this period many of his mourning 
parishioners, who had assembled for Sunday service, were 
permitted to walk through the house, and past the open door 
of his bedroom, and to see his much-loved face once more. 
At length, at half-past ten on Sunday night, August 14th, he 
fell asleep in Christ, without a struggle or groan, and entered 
into the joy of his Lord. On the 17th, he was buried in 
Madeley churchyard, amidst the tears and lamentations of 
thousands, of whom many never knew the true value of their 
vicar until they had lost him. 

I have now followed Fletcher from his cradle to his grave. 
It only remains for me to offer some estimate of his real worth 
as a preacher, a writer, and a man. 

As & preacher, I am disposed to assign Fletcher a very high 
rank. Even in the last century, when there were " giants of 
pulpit power on the earth," I suspect there were not half-a-dozen 
men superior to the Vicar of Madeley. He was naturally an 
eloquent man. He had a mind well trained and stored with 
scriptural matter. He was eminently direct, bold, and con- 

:i95) 27 



418 FLETCHER AS A PREACHER. 

science-stirring, in his way of putting things. Not least, he had 
a very fine voice, and a singularly fervent and attractive manner. 
It is recorded that many English people used to go to hear him 
preach in French to the French congregations in London, though 
they could not understand a word that he said. " We go," 
they used to say, " to look at him, for heaven seems to beam 
from his countenance." A minister possessing such qualifica- 
tions as these must have been a man of no common power in 
the pulpit. John Wesley, who was no mean judge, used to 
say, that if Fletcher had had more physical strength, he would 
have been the first preacher in England. This is probably 
saying too much. Nothing, I suspect, would ever have made 
Fletcher equal Whitefield or Rowlands. But we need not hesi- 
tate to place him in the first class among the Christian orators 
of England a hundred years ago. 

The following passage will probably convey a pretty correct 
idea of what Fletcher was as a preacher. I have taken it from 
his " Address to a serious reader who inquires what must he do 
to be saved." The address was certainly not published in the 
form of a sermon ; but if it had not been preached, I am 
greatly mistaken. Ministers who spend their whole life in 
preaching, as Fletcher did, have seldom time to think and 
compose in more than one style. To that rule Henry Venn 
was perhaps the only exception among the great men of the 
last century. But that Fletcher had preached the following 
passage in Madeley pulpit before he committed it to the press, 
I feel thoroughly persuaded in my own mind. After quoting a 
long list of encouraging promises and invitations in Scripture, 
he goes on, — 

" Are these, O sinner, the gracious sayings of God to thee % 
the compassionate expostulations of God, become incarnate for 
thee 1 Did God so love thee as to set forth his only-begotten 
Son, as a propitiation through faith in his blood, thus to declare 
his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past 1 May 






QUOTA TION FROM AN ADDRESS. 4 1 9 

the Almighty now be just, and yet the justifier of him that 
believeth in Jesus? Is there no difference, no respect of 
persons, with him % And' is the same Lord over all rich unto 
all that call upon him % Then shout, ye heavens ! triumph, 
thou earth ! and thou, happy sinner, know the day of thy visi- 
tation ; be wise, ponder these things, and thou shalt understand 
the loving-kindness of the Lord. 

" Be no longer afraid that it will be presumption in thee to 
believe, and that God will be offended with thee if thou makest 
so free with Jesus as to wash instantly in the fountain of his 
atoning blood. He not only gives thee leave to believe, but 
he invites thee to do it. freely. Nay, he commands thee to 
believe ; for ' this is his commandment, that we should believe 
on the name of his Son Jesus Christ' He even enforces the 
precept by a double promise, that if thou believest thou ' shalt 
not perish, but have everlasting life.' And that nothing may 
be wanting to stir thee up to this important business, he is 
gracious enough to threaten the neglect of it with the most 
dreadful punishment ; for ' he that believeth not shall not enter 
into his rest,' and ' shall be damned;' and he that to the end 
remains 'fearful and unbelieving' 'shall be cast into the lake 
that burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second 
death.' How canst thou doubt, then, whether thou art welcome 
to receive the Son by believing on his name 1 

" Come to him just as thou art, and he will make thee 
what thou shouldst be. When he counsels thee to buy of him 
the gold of faith, and the garment of salvation, take him at his 
gospel-word. Come without regarding thy stuff — the poorer 
thou art the better — the oil of his grace flows most abundantly 
into empty vessels — his charity is most glorified in the relief of 
the most miserable objects — his royal bounty scorns the vile 
compensation of thy wretched merits — he sells like a king, like 
the King of kings, ' without money and without price.' 

" ' Ask and have,' and ' take freely,' are the encouraging 



420 QUO TA T/OJV FROM AN ADDRESS. 

mottoes written upon all the unsearchable treasures of his 
grace. 

"Be of good comfort, then; rise, he calleth thee — stretch 
out thy withered hand, and he will restore it — open thy mouth 
wide, and. he will fill it — bring an empty vessel, a poor hungry 
heart, and he will give into thy bosom good measure, pressed 
down, shaken together and running over. 

" And now, what meanest thou, sleeper? Why tarriest thou % 
Arise, and wash away thy sins, calling on the name of the Lord. 
Lose not time in conferring with flesh and blood ; much less 
in parleying with Satan, or consulting thy unbelieving heart. 
These delays lead to ruin ; the Philistines are upon thee, 
instantly shake thyself; if thou art not altogether blinded by 
the god of this world, and led captive by him at his will, this 
moment, in the powerful name of Jesus, burst the bonds of 
spiritual sloth — break, like a desperate soul, out of the prison 
of unbelief — escape for thy life — look not behind thee — stay 
not in all the plain. This one thing do ; leaving the things 
that are behind — Sodom and her ways — press forwards towards 
Zoar, and escape to the mount of God, lest thou be consumed. 
By the new and living way consecrated for us, in full assurance 
of faith, fly to the Father of mercies, pass through the crowd of 
Laodicean professors, press through the opening door of hope, 
take the kingdom of heaven by violence. 

"With halting, yet wrestling, Jacob, say to the Friend of 
sinners, ' I will not let thee go unless thou bless me.' If he 
makes as if he would go farther, with the two mournful disciples, 
'constrain him to stay;' or rather, with the distressed women 
of Canaan, ' follow him whithersoever he goeth,' take no denial. 
Through the veil, that is to say, his flesh, torn from the crown 
of his head to the sole of his feet — through this mysterious 
veil, rent from the top to the bottom, rush into the blood- 
besprinkled sanctuary ; embrace the horns of the golden altar ; 
lay all thy guilt on the head of the sin-atoning victim ; read thy 



FLETCHER AS A WRITER. 4 2 * 

name on the breast of thy merciful high-priest. Claim the 
safety, demand the blessings, receive the consolations bestowed 
on all that fly to him for refuge, and begin a new, delightful 
life, under the healing and peaceful shadow of his wings." 

As a writer, Fletcher's reputation will never perhaps stand so 
high as it deserves. Unfortunately, a very large portion of his 
literary remains consists of controversial treatises against Cal- 
vinism, and in defence of Arminianism. In these treatises I 
must plainly say the worthy Vicar of Madeley says many things 
with which I cannot agree, because I cannot reconcile them 
with the statements of Scripture. Yet, even when I do not 
agree with him, I feel bound as an honest man to admit that 
Fletcher is a very able adversary, and makes the best that can 
be made of a bad cause, and writes with courtesy. Indeed, I 
never can help suspecting that he was not nearly so much an 
Arminian in his heart as he thought he was, and that he was 
pushed into saying things, in the heat of controversy, which he 
afterwards regretted. 

The following passage, from Fletcher's " Checks to Antino- 
mianism," will convey a very fair idea of his power as a writer, 
and will show how thoroughly his mind was saturated and imbued 
with Scripture. It is almost needless to remark that, like many 
controversialists, he was constantly fighting shadows of his own 
creation, and that his Calvinistic antagonists hated Antinomian- 
ism and unholy living quite as much as he did. But the 
passage is a good specimen of his style of writing. He is giving 
a long catalogue of the melancholy inconsistencies of professors 
of religion, and says : — 

"Who can number the ' adulterers and adulteresses' who 
know not that the friendship of the world is enmity against God! 
— the concealed idolaters, who have their ' chambers of imagery' 
within, and 'set up their idols in their hearts?' — the envious 
Cains, who carry murder in their breast?' — the profane Esaus, 
who give up their birthright for a sensual gratification ; and 



422 SPE CIMEN OF HIS STYLE. 

covetous Judases, who ' sell the truth' which they should ' buy,' 
and part with Christ ' for filthy lucre's sake V — ' the sons of God, 
who look at the fair daughters of men, and take to themselves 
wives of all which they choose 1 ?' — the gay Dinahs, who 'visit 
the daughters of the land,' and come home polluted in body or 
in soul 1 — the prophets of Bethel, ' who deceive the prophets of 
Judah,' entice them out of the way of self-denial, and bring the 
roaring lion and death upon them 1 — the fickle Marcuses, who 
depart when they should 'go to the work 1 ?' — the self-made 
prophets, who ' run before they are sent,' and scatter instead of 
' profiting the people V — the spiritual Absaloms, who rise against 
their fathers in the gospel, and, in order to ' reign without them,' 
raise a rebellion against them 1 — the furious Zedekiahs, who 
'make themselves horns of iron to push' the true servants of 
the Lord, because they will not ' prophesy smooth things and 
deceit' as they do 1 ? Who can count the fretful Jonahs, who 
are 'angry to death' when the 'worm' of disappointment 
' smites the gourd' of their creature-happiness 1 — the weak Aarons, 
who dare not resist a multitude, and are carried by the stream 
into the greatest absurdities? — the jealous Miriams, who rise 
against the ministers that God honours % — the crafty Zibas, who 
calumniate and supplant their brethren 1 — the treacherous Joabs, 
who ' kiss' them to get an opportunity of ' stabbing them under 
the fifth rib V — the busy sons of Zeruiah, who perpetually stir 
up resentment and wrath % — the mischievous Doegs, who carry 
about poisonous scandal, and blow up the fire of discord 1 — the 
hypocritical Gehazis, who look like saints before their masters 
and ministers, and yet can impudently lie and impiously cheat ? 
— the Gibeonites, always busy in hewing wood and drawing 
water, in going through the drudgery of outward services, with- 
out ever aspiring at the adoption of sons ? — the halting Naamans, 
who serve the Lord and bow to Rimmon? — the backsliding 
Solomons, who once ' chose wisdom,' but now pursue folly 
in her most extravagant and impious forms ? — the apostatizing 



FLETCHER AS A MAN. 423 

Alexanders, who ' tread under foot the Son of God, and count 
the blood of the covenant, wherewith they are sanctified, an 
unholy thing V — and, to include multitudes in one class, the 
Samaritans, who, by a common mixture of truth and error, 
of heavenly and earthly mindedness, ' worship the Lord and 
serve their gods ;' are one day for God, and the next for mam- 
mon? — or the thousands in Israel who 'halt between two 
opinions,' crying out, when Elijah prevails, ' The Lord he is the 
God !' and when Jezebel triumphs, returning to the old song, 
c O Baal, save us !' O trinity of the world, money, pleasure, and 
honour, make us happy !" 

But it really is not fair to judge Fletcher, as a writer, by his 
controversial treatises alone. Out of the eight volumes of his 
works, at least four contain many admirable things, which are 
far less known than they ought to be. His admirable " Letter 
to Mr. Prothero in Defence of Experimental Religion ;" his 
" Critical Vindication of the Catholic Faith, in reply to Priest- 
ley ;" his " Portrait of St. Paul •" his " Pastoral Epistles" to his 
flock at Madeley, are, generally speaking, all worthy of high 
praise. Last, but not least, his letters to friends, like most of 
the letters of the spiritual heroes of last century, are often 
most excellent. If a volume of letters by Whitefield, Venn, 
and their contemporaries, could be compiled and published — 
and I have long regretted that the thing has not been done — I 
am bold to say that Fletcher's letters would occupy a very pro- 
minent place among them. 

As a man, Fletcher's character stands above all praise. I can 
find very few men of a hundred years ago about whom there is 
so striking an agreement on all sides that he was pre-eminently 
and peculiarly a most holy man, a saint indeed, a living epistle 
of Christ. His deep humility, his extraordinary self-denial, his 
unwearied diligence, his courage in Christ's cause, his constant 
spirituality of tone, his fervent love to God and man, his single- 
ness of eye, are features in his character so strongly marked and 



424 TESTIMONY OF JOHN WESLEY 

developed, that even his adversaries never pretended to deny 
them. Wrong as he was in some of his views of doctrine, his 
worst foes never ventured to doubt his singular holiness of life. 
In this respect, at any rate, the Vicar of Madeley ranked high 
among his contemporaries. Like every earthen vessel, he had 
his cracks and flaws, no doubt, and no one knew it better than 
himself; but they were cracks and flaws which were far less 
visible than, unhappily, they are in many of God's saints. 

Let us hear what John Wesley thought of Fletcher. No 
doubt he was an Arminian, like Fletcher, and likely to think 
well of him. But Wesley was a calm, cool-blooded man, and 
not one to speak strongly in any one's praise without good 
reason. This is his testimony :— 

" I was intimately acquainted with Mr. Fletcher for thirty 
years. I conversed with him morning, noon, and night, with- 
out the least reserve, during a journey of many hundred miles; 
and in all that time I never heard him speak an improper word, 
or do an improper action. To conclude, within fourscore years 
I have known many excellent men, holy in heart and life ; but 
one equal to him I have not known, one so uniformly devoted 
to God. So unblamable a man, in every respect, I have not 
found, either in Europe or America, nor do I expect to find 
another such on this side eternity." 

Let us hear, finally, what Henry Venn thought of Fletcher. 
His testimony, at any rate, is unexceptionable. Though not an 
extreme Calvinist, he certainly was not in the least an Arminian. 
He had little or no direct connection with the Vicar of Made- 
ley, and did not move in the same path. Above all, he was a 
man of rare good sense as well as grace, and one whose gift of 
sound judgment was great and extraordinary. 

His testimony was as follows : — " Mr. Fletcher was a lumi- 
nary. A luminary, did I say 1 He was a sun. I have known 
all the great men for these fifty years, but I have known none 
like him. I was intimately acquainted with him, and was under 



AND HENRY VENN. 425 

the same roof with him once for six weeks, during which I never 
heard him say a single word which was not proper to be spoken, 
and which had not a tendency to minister grace to the hearers. 
One time meeting him when he was very ill with a hectic fever, 
which he had brought on himself by excessive labour, I said, 
' I am sorry to find you so ill.' Mr. Fletcher answered with 
great sweetness and energy, ' Sorry, sir ! Why are you sorry 1 
It is the chastisement of my heavenly Father, and I rejoice in it. 
I love the rod of my God, and rejoice therein, as an expression 
of his love and affection towards me.' " 

With John Fletcher I now close my biographical accounts of 
the ministers who were prime movers in the revival of English 
religion a hundred years ago. I have shown, I think, that in 
the best sense " there were giants in those days." The Vicar 
of Madeley, my readers will probably agree with me, was not the 
least of them. 




XIV. 

€onthx$xon t 

Y contribution to the religious history of England a 
hundred years ago is now concluded. I have fairly 
exhausted the list of leading ministers who were the 
spiritual reformers of our land in the last century. That there 
were other great and good men beside the eleven whom I have 
selected, I do not for a moment deny. I only say that there 
were none equal to them in public usefulness. There were 
other labourers in the gospel-field of England whose record 
is on high. But they " attained not to the first " eleven. 

In compiling these biographies I am very sensible of many 
deficiencies. I know they might have been made larger. But 
I cannot forget that we do not live in a reading age, and that 
" great books are great evils." I know they might have been "bet- 
ter written. But I hope the reader will remember that their 
preparation has been carried on under immense difficulties, and 
under the daily pressure of other ministerial duties. I have, at 
any rate, the satisfaction of feeling that this volume contains a 
mass of facts which have never been brought together before, 
and throws light on some points in English Church history 
which have never yet been rightly understood. 

There are a few general statistics about my eleven heroes 
which deserve notice. Reading their lives singly and one by 
one, we may possibly overlook them. Viewed altogether and 
in combination, they will probably be thought interesting. 

For one thing, every one of the eleven leading ministers in 



LEADERS OF LAST CENTURY. 427 

the revival of last century was an ordained clergyman of the 
Church of England. This is a fact which ought not to be over- 
looked. I am not what is called a High Churchman. I do 
not hold the divine right of Episcopacy. I desire to regard all 
ministers who love Christ and preach the truth as my brethren. 
But still, honour should be given where honour is due. It is a 
total mistake to suppose, as many do, that English religion a 
hundred years ago was revived by Dissenters. Nothing of the 
kind ! The men who did the mighty work of that day, and 
plucked Christianity out of the dust, were all clergymen of the 
Church of England — clergymen of whom the Church was un- 
worthy, but still clergymen as really and truly as George Her- 
bert, or Andrews, or Bull. Let that fact never be forgotten. 
Well would it have been for the Church of England if she 
had more children like Rowlands and Berridge, and fewer like 
Laud. 

For another thing, the greater part of the leaders of the 
revival of English religion last century were University men. 
Five of them — namely, Wesley, Whitefield, Romaine, Hervey, 
and Walker — took their degrees at Oxford. Three of them — 
namely, Grimshaw, Berridge, and Venn — took their degrees at 
Cambridge. Toplady was educated at Trinity College, Dublin. 
Rowlands and Fletcher alone were at no University at all. Let 
this fact also be carefully remembered. The common notion 
that the men who turned England upside down last century 
were mere common-place, illiterate, ignorant, uneducated fana- 
tics, is a stupid mistake. So far from this being the case,, the 
eleven clergymen described in this volume were in all proba- 
bility better read and more furnished with knowledge than most 
ministers of their day. 

For another thing, the majority of the eleven clergymen who 
led the revival of last century were married men. Of the four 
who never married, three died at a comparatively early age, of 
consumption, namely, Hervey, Toplady, and Walker. The 



428 LESSONS LEARNED FROM THE 

most eminent one of the eleven who died unmarried was Ber- 
ridge, and he, we have seen, was so quaint, that he was always 
unlike other men. This fact is one that ought not to be over- 
looked. In a day when celibacy is held up to admiration as 
the grand secret of exalted spirituality, it is worth remembering 
that devoted servants of God like Grimshaw, Rowlands, Venn, 
and Romaine, could walk with God like Enoch, and yet, like 
Enoch, " live according to God's ordinance in the holy estate of 
matrimony." The minister who has no sons and daughters of 
his own, suffers immense loss in the study of human nature. 

It only remains for me now to point out a few practical 
lessons which appear to flow naturally from the biographies 
which fill the pages of this book. They are lessons which are 
strongly impressed on my own mind. Thankful should I be 
if I could impress them on the minds of others ! 

i. In the first place, would we know the right instrumentality 
for doing good in the present day 1 Evil is about us and upon 
us on every side, evil from Romanism, evil from infidelity, 
evil from tractarianism, evil from neologianism, evil amidst the 
working classes, evil amidst the educated bodies. What is the 
true remedy for the disease 1 What is the weapon to be wielded 
if we would meet the foe 1 Can anything be done 1 Is there 
no hope ? 

I answer boldly that the true remedy for all the evils of our 
day is the same remedy that proved effectual a hundred years 
ago — the same pure unadulterated doctrine that the men of 
whom I have been writing used to preach, and the same kind 
of preachers. I am bold to say that we want nothing new — 
no new systems, no new school of teaching, no new theology, 
no new ceremonial, no new gospel. We want nothing but the 
old truths rightly preached and rightly brought home to con- 
sciences, minds, and wills. The evangelical system of theology 
revived England a hundred years ago, and I have faith to believe 
that it could revive it again. 



PRECEDING BIOGRAPHIES. 429 

There never has been good done in the world excepting by 
the faithful preaching of evangelical truth. From the days of 
the apostles down to this time, there have been no victories 
won, no spiritual successes obtained, except by the doctrines 
which wrought deliverance a hundred years ago. Where are 
the conquests of neologianism and tractarianism over heathen- 
ism, irreligion, immorality % Where are the nations they have 
Christianized, the parishes they have evangelized, the towns 
they have turned from darkness to light 1 You may well ask 
where? You will get no answer. The good that has been 
done in the world, however small, has always been done by 
evangelical doctrines ; and if men who are not called " evan- 
gelical" have had successes, they have had them by using 
evangelical weapons. They have ploughed with our heifer, or 
they would never have had any harvest to show at all. 

I repeat it emphatically, for I believe it sincerely. The first 
want of our day is a return to the old, simple, and sharply-cut 
doctrines of our fathers in the last century; and the second want 
is a generation of like-minded and like-gifted men to preach 
them. Give me in any county of England and Wales a man 
like Grimshaw or Rowlands or Whitefield, and there is nothing 
in the present day which would make me afraid. I confidently 
believe that in the face of such men and such preaching ritual- 
ism, neologianism, and infidelity would be paralyzed and wither 
away. 

2. Would we know, in the next place, why the ministers who 
profess to follow the evangelical fathers of last century are so 
much less successful than they were 1 The question is a deli- 
cate and interesting one, and ought not to be shelved. The 
suspicion naturally crosses some minds, that the doctrines which 
won victories a hundred years ago are worn out, and have lost 
their power. I believe that theory to be an entire mistake. 
The answer which I give to the inquiry is one of a very dif- 
ferent kind. 



43° NOT UP TO THE STANDARD 

I am obliged then to say plainly, that, in my judgment, we 
have among us neither the men nor the doctrines of the days 
gone by. We have none who preach with such peculiar power 
as Whitefield or Rowlands. We have none who in self-denial, 
singleness of eye, diligence, holy boldness, and unworldliness, 
come up to the level of Grimshaw, Walker, Venn, and Fletcher. 
It is a humbling conclusion ; but I have long felt that it is the 
truth. We lack both the men and the message of the last century. 
What wonder if we do not see the last century's results. Give 
us like men and a like message, and I have no fear that the 
Holy Ghost would grant us like results. 

Wherein do evangelical Churchmen fall short of their great 
predecessors in the last century % Let us look this question fairly 
in the face. Let us come to particulars. They fall short in 
doctrine. They are neither so full nor so distinct, nor so bold, 
nor so uncompromising. They are afraid of strong statements. 
They are too ready to fence, and guard, and qualify all their 
teaching, as if Christ's gospel was a little baby, and could not 
be trusted to walk alone. They fall short as preachers. They 
have neither the fervour, nor fire, nor thought, nor illus- 
tration, nor directness, nor holy boldness, nor grand simplicity 
of language which characterized the last century. Above 
all, they fall short in life. They are not men of one thing, 
separate from the world, unmistakable men of God, minis- 
ters of Christ everywhere, indifferent to man's opinion, regard- 
less who is offended, if they only preach truth, always about 
their Father's business, as Grimshaw and Fletcher used to be. 
They do not make the world feel that a prophet is among them, 
and ca.rry about with them their Master's presence, as Moses 
when he came down from the mount. I write these things with 
sorrow. I desire to take my full share of blame. But I do 
believe I am speaking the truth. 

It is no use trying to evade the truth on this subject. I fear 
that, as a general rule, the evangelical ministry in England has 



OF LAST CENTUR Y. 43 l 

fallen far below the standard of the last century, and that the 
simple account of the want of success to which so many point is, 
the low standard both of doctrine and life which prevails. Ease 
and popularity, and the absence of persecution, are ruinous to 
some. Political questions eat out the vitality of others. An 
extravagant and excessive attention to the petty details of parish 
machinery withers up the ministry of others. An absurd strain- 
ing after the reputation of being " intellectual " and original is 
the curse of others. A desire to seem charitable and liberal, 
and keep in with everybody, paralyzes the ministry of others. 
The plague is abroad. We want a revival among evangelical 
ministers. Once let the evangelical ministry of England return 
to the ways of the last century, and I firmly believe we should 
have as much success as before. We are where we are, because 
we have come short of our fathers. 

3. Last of all comes the all-important question, What ought 
we to do 1 I answer confidently, There are three things which 
we shall do well to remember, if we wish our work to prosper. 

First, let us resolve to cast in our lot boldly on the side of what 
I must call " evangelical" religion in England. Let us not be 
moved by the sneers and contempt which are poured on it in 
some quarters. Let us cleave to it, hold it fast, and never let 
it go. Let us beware of the plausible charity which says, " All 
earnest men hold the truth. No earnest man can err." Let us 
beware of the idolatry of intellect, which says, "A man cannot 
make mistakes in doctrine if he is a clever man." Of both these 
dangers let us beware. Let us lay hold firmly on evangelical 
religion as the truth of God, and never be ashamed to confess 
it. Let us stand by it, and it will stand by us in the hour of 
sickness and on the bed of death, in the swellings of Jordan, 
and in the day of judgment. 

Next, let us resolve to work heartily for evangelical truth, 
each in his own place. There is .always work for every one 
before his own door. Let us never stand still because we are 



43 2 WORK AND PR A YER. 

in a minority. What though we stand alone in* a house of 
business, alone in the banking-house, alone in a regiment, alone 
in a ship, alone in a family! What of it % Let us think of the 
little company who shook England one hundred years ago, and 
work on. It is truth, not numbers, which shall always in the end 
prevail. The three hundred at Thermopylae were better than 
the million of Persians. A small minority of evangelical Chris- 
tians with the gospel in their hearts are stronger than a host of 
servants of the Pope, the devil, and the world. 

And let us pray, last of all, as well as work. Let us pray 
night and day that God would revive his work in England, and 
raise up many more instruments to do his will. Let us pray with 
the abiding thought that God's arm is not shortened, that what he 
has done he can do again, and that the same God who wrought 
so mightily for England one hundred years ago can do greater 
things still. Let us ask Him who holds the stars in his right 
hand to revive his work among our ministers, and to raise up 
men for our times. He can do it. He is willing to do it. He 
waits to be entreated. Then let all who pray cry night and day 
to the Lord of the harvest, " Lord, send forth more labourers 
into thy harvest." 



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